


Entangled

by onecent



Category: Marvel, Tangled (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, He does not have golden hair, M/M, Retelling, Retelling of Tangled, bucky is rapunzel, everyone is human
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 03:25:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7960585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onecent/pseuds/onecent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of how I died. Oh, but don’t worry, this is actually a happy story. And the truth is, it isn’t even mine. This is the story of a man named Bucky. And it starts in winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Entangled

**Author's Note:**

> The art for this work is done by the wonderful [PlaidHunter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlaidHunters/pseuds/PlaidHunters), who not only *wrote* for the Big Bang but also put together the mood board for me. Thanks so much!
> 
> Thanks also to Molly for organizing the Big Bang and giving me another reason to write, and thanks to my beta, [ottobarnes](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ottobarnes/pseuds/ottobarnes), for reading everything and helping me to stay focused and get this finished.
> 
> If you know the movie Tangled, you'll know exactly how this story plays out. Well...mostly.

[ ](http://i249.photobucket.com/albums/gg214/Shaleypen/Pic%20wThor_zpsxisokexc.jpg)

 

It was cold. The tips of his fingers were numb with it, making it so hard to hold on, but he had to, had to keep reaching. Someone was counting on him. Someone was reaching for him, someone with bright blue eyes and blonde hair, reaching out--

James woke up to find himself wrapped in soft blankets. He rolled out of bed, pushed through the curtain into the main room, and stretched before wandering over to watch the sun fall across the rest of the valley.

From his tower he could see the rolling meadows and bright flowers far below him. The few clouds in the sky were high, bright, and far off. It was a beautiful spring day.

He turned back to the tower interior. A pull on a long rope opened a window near the top of the conical roof, and the resulting sunspot landed on a large mural painted on the upper walls. James frowned at the spot of sun. He went to the staircase and lifted one of the stairs to pull out a battered journal and a small pencil.

“Last time it was just crossing into the blue…” he muttered to himself, flipping through the first few pages of the journal. “Now it’s three quarters through. Damn.”

“Three weeks, in case you were wondering.” A small redhead dropped down from the rafters and crossed over to peer at his notes. “Also you’re no good at hide and seek when you’ve just gotten back.”

James marked the new date and spoke without looking at her. “I knew where you were, Natasha. Thought I’d let you enjoy your perch a little longer. It seemed comfortable, stretched out across the beams like that.”

Natasha pouted. “All right, then, smarty-pants. What are we doing today, since you’re not in the mood for games?” Her eyes lit up. “Oh, I know! We could go--”

“Don’t say it.” James held a finger to her lips and finally looked at her. “I just got back from a training trip. I’ve got work to do anyway.”

Natasha crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “You act like I don’t keep up with the chores while you’re gone. Floors swept, and mopped, fixtures polished, laundry done. I even waxed the floors. Waxed them! When there’s no one even to see it.”

“Then it’s time to work on my arm. Who knows what sort of mess I got into in the last three weeks?”

“Excuses, excuses.” Natasha waved her hand dismissively, but she also went to pull the cleaning kit out. “Have a seat, then, and we’ll take you apart.”

James perched in the single rocking chair while Natasha pulled up the footstool to sit. She bent over his left arm, which was entirely made of metal. Carefully, she unscrewed plate after plate, polishing the individual pieces and beneath them with brushes and cloths. James watched the process blankly, his mind going back to the dreams of the night before.

Natasha’s voice trickled into his thought pattern eventually. “...and then I hung your underwear from the mast like a flag and sailed under the name Red Beard--”

“What?”

“Oh, good, you’re listening again.” Natasha finished polishing a wrist plate and started to screw it back into place. “What were you thinking about that was so interesting?”

James’ eyes drifted over to the journal on the table. It wasn’t just his calendar, but a collection of his life, everything he had ever remembered. And tucked into the center was a drawing he’d been working on for a while. A figure with no details, except bright blue eyes and a hand outstretched to grab at...something.

“I should’ve known.” Natasha rolled her eyes. “Look, I keep telling you. You’re never going to find any answers if you stay locked up here. You need to--”

“I told you I don’t want to talk about it,” James growled. “If you’re so ready to leave, you know the way out.”

Natasha huffed again but stayed quiet as she finished working on James’ arm.

* * *

A hop, skip, and a jump away from James’ and Natasha’s tower, a trio of shady individuals stood on the roof of a large castle. While two were busy tying ropes to the gargoyles hanging over the edge of the roof, the third, a man with a bow and quiver over his shoulders, stood at the edge of the roof and looked out over the water.

“Wow,” he said, gazing out across the lake that separated the small town surrounding the castle from the mainland. “I could get used to a view like this.”

“Come on, Clint, we need to go,” the white-haired man behind him called. He finished knotting the rope around the gargoyle and pulled on a pair of thick gloves.

“Hold on.” Clint Barton held up his hands and made a frame around the view. “Yep. I’m used to it. Wanda, Pietro, I want a castle.”

“Let’s finish this job,” Wanda said, marching over to Clint. “Then we can talk about castles.” She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him toward the edge. She handed him another rope, already secured, and held out a pair of gloves. He pulled them on and backed up toward the roof edge, sliding the rope behind and beneath him so he could let himself down slowly along the edge of the wall.

The two men walked backward down the wall until they reached an open window. Both stepped onto the wide ledge. Clint waited on the ledge while Pietro let himself inside, dropping soundlessly onto the tiled floor inside. Their prize waited on a small pillar with a cushion. Pietro ran over, gently lifted the large shield off its resting place, and ran back.

Clint reached down and pulled Pietro up and out the open window. Wanda slid down the same rope Clint had used, Pietro’s already untied and slung around her shoulder. They tied the new rope to an exterior sconce and began to descend the rest of the way to the ground, first Wanda and then Pietro.

Clint grabbed the rope and looped it under himself. A loud noise from inside made him refocus his attention. Instead of dropping down right away, he watched as the main doors opened and a man with a trim goatee and dark glasses marched in, followed by a troop of people holding papers and pens.

“There is a food shortage in the southern province, and we have news of a dragon on our western border,” one woman said. “And Rhodes is still searching the northern front. Tony, we can’t keep funneling men and funds into a useless search--”

“I’m not giving up on him,” the man said, whirling to look at her. “We’ll find a way to make it work.” He turned back, muttering under his breath.

Clint could see the moment the shield’s absence was noted. The man’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to shout as he spun to look around the room. He spotted Clint, who gave a small wave and dropped out of sight, sliding to the ground faster than was strictly safe.

“What took you so long?” Wanda hissed.

“Talk later, run now!” Clint grabbed her hand and started racing away from the castle as a series of shouts went up behind them. Reaching up, he pulled off his bow and an arrow. He shot at the groudn in front of a group of guards, and in the resulting explosion of smoke they increased their headstart on the soldiers.

“What did you do this time?” Pietro asked, easily outpacing both of them and leading the way along the bridge out of the city toward the mainland.

“Got caught eavesdropping. Got a look at Stark, though. He’s not nearly as impressive as the posters make out.”

“Clint,” Wanda said despairingly.

“Isn’t this fun?” Clint called out to his companions, replacing his bow over his shoulder. “We’re already off to such a good start. This is going to be a good day for us, I can feel it!”

* * *

James and Natasha sparred together in the cleared space in the main room of the tower. He’d been teaching her everything he knew, and she was a quick learner and skilled opponent. They danced around each other, throwing jabs and attempting to throw each other, though James made sure to always pull his punches.

A loud bell sent Natasha jumping back up into the rafters, with James boosting her up. He grabbed a rag from the counter to wipe his face and pulled on his shirt before checking the room for any signs of an extra person living there. Spotting his journal still sitting out on the table, he quickly replaced it in the hollow stair before going to the window.

A large crank was locked into place next to the window. James flicked a lever and it began to spin. He grabbed the handle just to control the spin as a large platform lowered itself along the outside of the tower to the ground below. Once he felt it come to rest, he waited for a count of ten before winding it back up again.

Natasha had actually tested the crank. When she’d first appeared at the tower, she’d just climbed up the rough exterior on her own, but after a few months she became curious and let the platform down just to see if she could lift it up again. Even without someone standing on it, she had found it too heavy to raise without help. Which ruled out her ever being able to let James back in, should he ever decide to take the chance and go outside.

As the platform grew level with the window, a blonde head appeared in the frame, and it made James’ heart jump again even when he knew it wasn't the blonde he’d been dreaming about. It was Pierce, just as always, standing perfectly still on the platform until it came to a stop exactly level with the window. He stepped off casually and looked around the tower with a small smile.

“Ah. There’s my good soldier,” he said while Bucky locked the gear back into place. “I see you haven’t taken any time to rest since coming back from our training exercise,” he said as he lifted a small pot, wiped a finger under it, and replaced it. “Perfectly neat as always.”

James was silent. He stood patiently, waiting.

“Did you know, soldier,” Pierce continued, “that you have an important day coming up?” He finished walking around the perimeter of the tower and settled on the chair perched in the middle of the room. “The anniversary of your career with us. And for such an auspicious day, I was thinking we could perhaps arrange a celebration of some sort. Bring me something to drink, won’t you? Maybe a glass of milk.”

James went to a recessed door in the wall, opening the ice chest and pulling out a small bottle of milk. He selected a glass from the shelf. Turning again, he saw Pierce leaning back in the chair, looking up into the rafters. James forced himself not to react and simply brought the milk and glass over.

“Thank you.” Pierce accepted the glass and bottle with a smile, pouring himself a drink before handing the bottle back for James to put away. “As I was saying. We should celebrate your time with us. Perhaps you have a favorite food you’d like to try?”

James’ mouth opened and closed again. He knew how he should respond, with a gentle platitude about how he already had everything he could want, but Natasha’s prodding and his own curiosity pushed him to at least try for something more. He opened his mouth and said in an almost creaking voice, “I have been having these dreams.”

Pierce stopped looking around the room and turned to actually look at James. His eyes narrowed slightly before he smiled wide. “What sort of dreams? Something you might like to have here with you?”

“There’s a person.” James licked his lips. “He’s...someone I know. But I can’t remember him.”

“What sort of person is he? Are you afraid of him?”

“No, I...I think I miss him.” James looked into Pierce’s blue eyes--blue, but so different from the blue that he was looking for. “Do you know who he is?”

It was easy to dismiss the sudden hardness on Pierce’s face as it quickly dissipated into a gentle smile. But it was that flash of anger that made James believe there really was something more to his dreams.

“I think you have a very good imagination, soldier. Perhaps I could bring you some more books to read, or some journals for you to write down your own stories. I’m sure you could be very creative.” Pierce patted James on his left arm and stood.

It was a dumb idea. Even more risky than bringing it up the first time. James licked his lips and tried again. “But...I know him.” His mouth gave a small twitch. He looked past Pierce’s shoulder, not even daring to look him in the eye. “I want to see him.”

“Sol--James.” Pierce sighed. He placed his hand on James’ shoulder again. “You know what happened last time you were out in the world. I found you, broken and close to death, with no memory of what happened to you. And I promised I would take care of you, but I can only do that so long as you are here, safe. Why go out chasing something that you dreamed up when there are still people in the world hoping to hunt you down? You’d go out looking for a dream, and you’d only lose all the good things you have.”

It was always a long shot. James looked down at his feet. “Yes, sir.”

“Right. Well. I hope we’re through with that.” Pierce walked over to the window. “Now don’t look so upset. I’ll take care of you. And I’ll be back soon with a surprise for your anniversary.” He stepped onto the platform, and James lowered him down slowly, one click of the crank at a time, until Pierce was back on the ground.

* * *

Clint raced through the forest after the Maximoff twins. “Hold up,” he gasped, leaning up against a tree as he fought to catch his breath. The younger pair in front of him stopped, though Pietro kept bouncing up and down on his toes. Clint chuckled and looked down at the ground. “Ugh. You kids are going to kill me.”

His eye caught on a paper nailed to the tree, and he pulled it off to look at it. “Oh no,” he said. “No, no no, this is bad, this is very very bad, really bad.” He spun the paper toward the twins, revealing a wanted poster of Clint. It was a full-body drawing of him, crouched in a completely impossible to achieve contortion. “This looks terrible! Who poses like this?!”

“Apparently you do,” Wanda said, snorting. Pietro ran over and snatched the paper with a grin, folding it up and tucking it into a back pocket. “Are there any for us?”

Clint scanned the tree. “Nope, looks like you two aren’t infamous enough. At least not in this country. No promises about your hometown, though. Or what’ll happen now that we’ve stolen the king’s shield.”

“First they’ll have to catch us,” Pietro said with a grin.

The sound of shouting and hoofbeats rose in the distance, and the three all turned to each other with a grimace. “Sounds like they’re making a solid effort,” Clint said. He plucked the shield from Pietro’s back. “You run faster without this. Go. You two make a break for it. I’m going to head off in a different direction and try to keep from getting seen. I’ll meet you guys at the rendezvous point.”

Pietro looked ready to argue, but Wanda touched his arm. She nodded at Clint, and the twins started rushing down the road.

Clint watched them go for a moment before leaving the path and darting through the trees. He went slower, taking his time to try to avoid making extra noise. He went a couple hundred yards before climbing up one of the larger trees he could find. When he was halfway up, he could see the king’s guard thunder past on the road. He chuckled to himself softly and slumped onto the tree branch.

“Yup, you’ve still got it, Barton,” he said. Leaning forward to watch the guard ride away, he heard something ping behind him. “What the--? Aah!”

Above him was a man with a wingpack, firing off crossbow bolts. The first had hit the shield as Clint leaned forward, and he had to swerve to dodge a second. He hugged in close to the tree trunk and shimmied down until he could drop the last of the way to the ground and start running.

“When did you guys get _wings_?” he shouted as he ran. The flying man didn’t bother to respond, just kept firing off shots that kept luckily hitting the shield. Clint reached for his own weapons to fire back, but the same shield that was keeping him from getting shot was unfortunately also making it impossible for him to get his bow. So he cursed under his breath and kept running.

The trees gave out suddenly, as did the ground, and Clint skidded to a stop at the edge of a cliff. He stopped, panting for breath, and listened to the sound of someone landing behind him.

“Clint Barton, you are under arrest, by order of the royal guard.”

“Yeah?” Clint turned slowly, hands in the air, to look at his pursuer. “And what makes you think you can arrest me?”

“I am under orders to bring you in for trial, based on your many crimes, which now includes stealing the shield of King Rogers.”

“I didn’t ask about your orders.” Clint’s fingers twitched as he considered a new option. “I’m questioning whether you’re actually capable.”

“What?”

Clint reached back to grab the shield from his back. “Catch,” he said, and threw the shield directly at the guard.

The man ducked the whirling disk of death, and it hit the tree behind him. Then it bounced, ricocheting off two more trees before flying back into Clint’s hand. He had used the distraction to grab his bow, and he caught the shield with his left hand while holding the bow in his right.

“Looks like you’ll have to try again later.” He saluted with two fingers, replaced the bow on his back, and tucked the shield under him as he jumped off the edge of the cliff. It was a ten-foot freefall, after which he landed on a sharp slope. Using the shield as a sled, he slid down to the bottom of the hill, thinking the whole way about what the guard’s face would look like when he realized that Clint had shot a few arrows to pin the bottom of his pants to the ground.

When he reached the bottom of the slope again, Clint quickly replaced the shield on his back and started to run through the trees again. This time he kept his eyes peeled upward, watching for when the guard freed himself and came looking again. In an attempt to evade the man, Clint kept to a large rock face, sliding along it with one hand on the rock.

At one point, his hand slid forward into empty space, hidden by a veil of hanging vines. Looking up, he spotted the guard circling again, and he quickly stepped into what soon revealed itself as a tunnel through the rock. Clint followed the tunnel to its opposite end. When he stepped back out into the light, he stopped and stared at the unexpected view.

He’d stumbled into a small valley, with a babbling brook and grassy fields and even a picturesque waterfall in the distance. In the center of the valley was a large tower with no doors and only one large window near the top. “Oh yeah, that looks totally safe,” he muttered to himself. But at the sound of rustling from the other end of the tunnel, he ran toward the tower and its offered shelter.

He stopped at the base of the tower and pulled off the shield again to get a grappling hook arrow out of his quiver. He pulled himself up with his arms, keeping the shield hooked on one foot as he climbed. Once he reached the window ledge, he took a deep breath and peered inside.

The room seemed completely empty. Clint vaulted inside and looked around one more time. Still not seeing anyone, he heaved a sigh of relief. Pulling the shield from his back, he rubbed its polished surface. “Alone at last.”

CLANG!

* * *

James stared down at the man collapsed at his feet.

“What did you do that for?!” Natasha dropped down from the ceiling to land next to the two men.

“He could be here to hurt us,” James responded. He rubbed at his left hand, with which he’d hit the other man over the head. “I didn’t realize he would go down so quickly.”

“I’m just glad you didn’t do that to me when I first got here.” Natasha placed two fingers behind the man’s ear. “Good news, he’s alive. Just unconscious.” She stood and wiped her fingers on her pants. “So what do you want to do with him?”

“I…” James looked down at the man and over to Natasha. “I don’t…”

She sighed. “The guy kind of did just waltz in here without asking. Not that I’m one to throw stones. But you’re right that he could be a threat. We could just throw him out of the tower. Then we wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

James squatted next to the man. “I don’t...I don’t know. I don’t think we should just kill him.” This close up, James could see the way the sun filtered through the man’s dirty blonde hair and fell on his long eyelashes. Then those eyes fluttered open, and James panicked and hit the man again with his heavy metal arm.

“Smooth.” Natasha glanced over at the window. “Pierce’ll be coming back. He wanted to bring you a surprise. You’ve got to find something to do with _him_.” She tilted her head at the intruder.

“Okay, yes, all right.” James looked around the room again. “The wardrobe. Come on, grab his feet and we’ll put him inside.”

With the two of them lifting and James’ strength, it was no trouble to set Clint into the wardrobe. The bigger difficulty came in making him fit. It wasn’t the biggest space, and they had to squeeze in limbs wherever they fit among the boots and suits already inside.

Once he was stuffed in, James and Natasha stepped back to survey their handiwork. “Well, that’s a job well done,” Natasha said.

“He looks like a jigsaw puzzle.” James tilted his head, trying to figure out exactly how the arms were fitting in that way with the rest of the body.

“Good news, then.” Natasha patted James’ right arm and grinned, waggling her eyebrows. “He’s at least very flexible.” She closed the wardrobe door and stuck a stick from the fireplace through the door handles. Then she wandered over to flop into the rocking chair.

“Now what do I do?” James started to pace in little circles in front of the wardrobe. He spotted the large metal disk the man had been carrying. It was concave, with bright patterns painted in red, blue and white on the outside. The inside of the disk had a few leather straps. “What is this for?”

“Hold it up?” Natasha said.

James held the disk like a bowl and frowned at it. “It wouldn’t be good for holding much. And the design doesn’t show well.”

“Hold it up so I can see the pattern.” Natasha frowned at the picture James made, slipping his arms through the strap and holding the disk in front of him. “Hmm...I mean, there’s some possibilities there, but it just doesn’t look quite right.” She held up her fingers like a frame, sticking her tongue out and closing one eye as she looked him over.

The sound of the bell startled both of them. Natasha jumped up again and scrambled up to hide again while James quickly stashed the large disk behind a low-hanging curtain and ran to the other side of the room to raise the platform. Natasha tucked herself out of sight just as Pierce’s head became level with the window.

“Surprise!” Pierce said, stepping back into the room. He carried a messenger bag over his shoulder, and he patted it with one hand. “Twice in one day, aren’t we both so lucky. But I’d promised to do something special for you, and when I saw these I just knew it was the perfect gift to celebrate the occasion.”

James followed Pierce over to the small table by the kitchen area. He pulled the chair over for Pierce and the footstool for himself, though he waited for Pierce’s nod before sitting.

Pierce pulled out a large book. “Here we go!” He opened it to the middle, revealing it as a scrapbook filled with old photos. "These are from back in my younger days. I used to run around, playing the hero here and there...well, go on, take a look!"

He handed the book to James, who took it with delicate fingers and began to turn the pages, looking over each picture with a bland expression.

"You were so confused before, wondering about that man you were seeing in your dreams, and then I realized it had to be me. I should've realized it earlier. Bright blue eyes, you said, and blonde hair. You must've remembered some of those first times you saw me, back when I first brought you here."

James squinted harder at the photos, but the man in them still looked completely unfamiliar. He didn't even look like the Pierce of today very much, though there were a few similarities. The man in the photos just seemed so much...happier, maybe. More full of life. That thought pulled James up short, and he looked up at the man sitting in front of him.

He noticed for the first time just how dead those eyes looked.

"So now that that's out of the way, what do you say we celebrate with a nice dinner?"

James stared down at the scrapbook, not really seeing the pictures. "I think..." he said slowly. "I'm tired." He glanced up at Pierce.

The man looked a little surprised. "Really? Well I suppose you did just get back from.... I suppose if you'd rather rest, that's fine." He stood and took off the messenger bag, leaving it on the table. "I'll leave these with you. We can have them next time. And keep the scrapbook for now. It'll give you a chance to look back on all those old memories."

A quiet nod from James, and Pierce stood and went for the window. “Rest well,” he said. “I’ll be by in a few days to see how you’re doing. I’m thinking of scheduling another training exercise. Would you like that?”

James nodded dutifully. He waited until Pierce gave him the nod indicating their conversation was over. The platform descended slowly and silently, the only sound James's hands on the crank. As he began to draw it back up, Natasha dropped down from her hiding spot again.

“So what are we doing now?” she asked.

“Well.” James turned and looked at the wardrobe. “I am fairly certain there’s a person in my closet, and I’d like to see what he has to say about all this.”

* * *

Clint woke to find a wet finger in his ear. He screamed and tried to jump away from the touch, but his movement was aborted by the fact that he was tied by every limb to the chair he was sitting in. The finger moved anyway, and he was able to wipe his ear on his shoulder while trying to take stock of his surroundings.

“Struggling is pointless,” a low voice came from the shadows.

“What?” Clint murmured, squinting into the dark.

“We did try to wake you in a more conventional manner.” The new voice came from right behind him, and Clint whipped his head around to see who was standing there. All he saw was a flash of red as the person stepped further away. “Your thick head doesn’t seem to respond well to simply being shaken awake.”

“Wh--?”

“Who are you,” the first voice said again, and Clint directed his attention ahead again. “And how did you find me?”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on here, but--”

“I said.” A man stepped into the light. He was beautiful, with dark hair falling gently to wide shoulders that faded into a large chest, trim waist, and thighs that could probably crush a melon. He seemed to be all muscle, and he stood like a fighter. Clint blinked a few times to clear his vision and swallowed hard, only barely catching the rest of the man’s sentence. “Who are you, and how did you find me?”

Oh, no way Clint was passing this up. He cleared his throat and wiped the stunned expression from his face, aiming for a sultry look instead, glancing up through his eyelashes. “I know not who you are, nor how I came to find you. But may I just say...hi.” He smirked and winked, pulling out his best flirting routine.

The man barely seemed to notice. He glanced past Clint’s shoulder, presumably to the person standing back there that Clint hadn’t managed to spot yet, but there were more important things to worry about right now.

“How’re you doing?” Clint plowed ahead, not letting himself be caught up in the fact that this guy clearly wasn’t familiar with flirting. Maybe because he’d been in this tower too long. How long could someone actually live in a tower? “Name’s Clint Barton. You might’ve heard of me, I’m pretty famous. The amazing Hawkeye. I’m a pretty talented guy--”

“Who else knows about this place, Clint?” The man’s voice clipped the name, and Clint couldn’t help but find it beautiful. Everything this man said was beautiful. Everything he did and was, including that fancy arm that hello, Clint only just realized was glinting a little too much in the sun. Was that thing made of metal?

“Okay, Lefty,” Clint said.

“James.” The man looked a little surprised at the word, but his face quickly hardened again back into suspicion.

“Right, James. And unknown compatriot, hi, haven’t forgotten about you.” Clint lifted the fingers of one hand to wave and looked half-heartedly over his shoulder at nothing. “So here’s the thing. I was in a situation, gallivanting through the forest. I came across your tower and--” His eyes went wide with horror and he started to look around frantically. “Wait, no, oh no, where is my shield?”

“I’ve hidden it,” James said with a small smile. “Where you’ll never find it, so you’d better start talking if you want to see it ever again.”

Clint’s eyes caught on something against the far wall and he smirked. “It’s behind that curtain, isn’t it?”

When he woke up again, once more to a finger in his ear, he was aware of a slight ringing sound that he was sure couldn’t be a good sign. Of course, he didn’t need the ringing to know it wasn’t a good idea to get knocked unconscious twice in one afternoon.

“ _Now_ it’s hidden where you’ll never find it,” James growled, and aww wasn’t that just the cutest thing, the way his eyebrows wrinkled up. “So tell me. What do you want with me?”

Clint leered up at him. “Well I can think of a lot of things I’d want with you right now,” he said. “Youll need to be more specific.”

A small hand wrapped itself around the roots of Clint’s hair and yanked his head back so he was staring up at a furious redhead. Her words were clipped and cold. “Who is coming to destroy us?”

“What?” Clint blinked back tears of pain and shifted a little in his seat. “No one! No one wants to destroy you, and I don’t want to destroy anyone! Look, I was being chased, I saw a tower, I climbed it, end of story. Now I just want to take my shield and leave.”

“You’re telling the truth?” the redhead asked, arching an eyebrow.

“Yes!”

The hand relaxed its death grip, and Clint shook his head to get rid of the tingling feeling in his scalp. He looked up as the woman who’d grabbed him stepped around to James, placing a hand on his arm and whispering quietly. Clint frowned and checked the strength of the bonds holding him again. He yanked at his arm, throwing all his weight into it and rocking himself back as he tried to pull away.

“Okay, Hawkeye.” Clint stopped pulling abruptly and stared at James, who stepped in and placed a hand on the back of Clint’s chair. “I’m going to offer you a deal.”

“A deal? Is this going to be some sort of contest? I love contests.”

“No. Natasha, bring me my book.”

The woman, presumably Natasha, walked to the staircase and pried up one of the steps. She pulled a small journal out from underneath and brought it over to James, who didn’t look away from Clint but simply kept his hand outstretched. He glanced down as he opened the book, turning the pages a few times before holding it up in front of Clint.

“Do you know this man?” he asked.

Clint’s gaze reluctantly left James’ pretty face and looked at the picture he was holding up. The art wasn’t great, but it definitely bore some resemblance… “Maybe? It sort of looks like the king.”

“Who?”

“King Steven. I mean, I can’t swear it, but…”

“Can you take me to him?”

Clint blinked. And blinked again. He looked from the book to James, up to Natasha, and back again. “What uh, I mean, uh. Why?”

“Just tell me! Can you take me to see this king?” James’ metal arm glinted in a spot of sun shining into the room.

“I don’t think that’s a really good idea. I mean, the kingdom and I are not exactly simpatico at the moment, so I can’t really take you anywhere.”

James’ expression fell for a moment, but so quickly that it made Clint’s head spin he went from sad to cold, then calculating. “Something brought you here, Hawkeye,” he said, poking Clint in the chest. “Fate, destiny--”

“An angry flying man,” Clint supplied.

“But I think you were meant to be here. And I…” James took a deep breath and looked Clint in the eye. “I’m making a decision to trust you.”

“A horrible decision, really.” Clint looked away from James’ intense gaze and over at Natasha. “Is he always this willing to jump into things with strange men?”

“Joke all you’d like.” Natasha crossed her arms over her chest. She was smiling, but it certainly didn’t seem like a comfort. “You can tear this tower apart brick by brick, but without our help, you’ll never find your precious shield.”

“Right, okay.” Clint went back to looking at James, who still was working on his very uncomfortable task of attempting to see down into Clint’s soul. “Let me get this straight. I take you to the king’s castle in the capital, bring you back home, and you’ll let me go and give me my shield back?”

“I promise.” The depth of emotion in that phrase was terrifying. “And I never break my promises.”

Clint gulped. “Well. All right, listen. I didn’t want to have to do this, but you leave me no choice.” He took a deep breath. “Here comes the smolder.” With the phrase, he turned on his best flirt face, looking up at James through half-lidded eyes and sticking his lower lip out in just the slightest pout.

James responded by frowning, looking at Natasha, who shrugged, and turning back to Clint.

Clint sighed loudly. “Just my luck, finding you two. I think that cat did lay a curse on me.” He sat for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek as he considered his options. Then he sighed. “Fine! I’ll take you to the castle.”

“Excellent. Natasha, cut him loose.”

Natasha stepped forward with a sharp knife and a wicked grin. Clint briefly thought about testing his smolder on her, but decided he rather wanted to live through getting freed from the chair. It really was just his luck, ending up with a couple of assassins on their way to kill the king.

* * *

“You coming, Lefty?”

James stood on the window ledge, his boots inching toward the drop. Natasha’s hand on his shoulder was light, and he covered her hand with his own.

“Don’t back out now,” she whispered. “Come on. Let’s go find this king of yours.”

James drew in a shuddering gasp. “Okay.” He leaned over the edge to look at Clint, who was climbing down the edge of the tower. They’d all agreed not to use the platform, since they couldn’t lower it slowly anyway, and no one would be able to raise it back up. Instead, Clint had pulled an arrow from his quiver, winked, and shot out a grappling hook that attached to the roof, using the long rope to lower himself down.

Once Clint was on the ground, Natasha slid down after him, using a couple dish towels around her hands to prevent rope burn. James followed her, relying on his glove to protect his flesh hand. He didn’t bother to worry about his left hand.  
He took the climb down slowly, trying not to focus too much on the way it felt a little like falling, and how the sense of falling made his heart race. Instead, he went down hand over hand until his booted feet touched the ground. He steadied himself against the solid wall of the tower, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He was _out_.

James dropped to the ground. He drew his right hand through the long grass, not pulling anything up but just reveling in the feel of it in his fingers. He took a deep breath, then brought his nose down to a small dandelion and sniffed deeply again. “It’s all so beautiful,” he murmured.

Clint sat down in front of him. “You’ve got a little, right there,” he said, pointing at his nose.

James frowned and rubbed at his nose. Then he jumped up again and ran to the nearby stream, sticking his right hand in it and leaving it in the freezing ice-melt for as long as he could stand it. His hand ached when he pulled it out, and so did his face. He reached up to poke at his cheeks and realized he was smiling.

“So I’m uh, guessing you two don’t get out much.” Clint was looking at Natasha, who was lying on the grass and digging her hands into the dirt.

“It’s been years,” she whispered. “I remember...but it was so long ago.”

“Uh-huh.” Clint looked over at James, who kept shielding his eyes from the bright sun. “Pretty nice digs, to not leave them for years at a time.”

“I leave,” James said before looking away. “I just don’t have time for this. For just touching, and feeling. There’s only training.”

Clint frowned, looking confused as he stared at first James then Natasha. “Well. I suppose we’d better get going, then. Unless maybe you guys have changed your mind?”

“James.” Natasha was on her feet in an instant, racing over to him. “We’re not going back,” she murmured. “Look at us. _Look at us._ We’re finally out.”

The sun was warm, especially on his metal arm. A bee buzzed past James’ head, and he heard rustling off to the side and saw a fox entering its den. The soft babble of the creek, inaudible from the tower, was a constant backdrop here on the ground. James closed his eyes and took another deep breath, relishing the fresh air.

“He’s going to be so angry,” he murmured. “I don’t want to know what he’ll do if he finds out. If he finds any of us. And you know he’ll come looking.”

“Then we make sure he doesn’t find us. He’s gone now anyway on his trip. We have time to hide, to get away. Or time to go find this king and come back before we’re even discovered.”

James felt a phantom pain, radiating from his head down to his chest and out to his arms. He winced at a strange memory of cold metal falling into place around his face while he pulled uselessly at restraints. “I have to come back,” he said. “But I won’t make you come with me.”

Natasha’s smile was small but kind. Before she could say anything, Clint cleared his throat and said, “So, uh, I hate to break up what looks to be a really touching moment, but I’m thinking maybe we’re not all on board with this whole ‘tour of the kingdom’ thing, and if that is the case I just want to let you all know that I’m willing to take this hit and let you two go back to doing your thing while I just head out of here and get on with my business.”

“No.” Natasha spun to him, baring her teeth a little on the word. “We’re going.”

“Aww, come on!” Clint huffed but spun and went toward the small cave leading back into the rest of the forest. Natasha followed him, and James stayed in the back, turning one last time to look back at the tower before pushing through the vines covering the cave entrance.

Clint crouched behind a large rock, looking around in all directions, even scanning the treetops. He poked his head over the top of the rock before dropping down again. In a hoarse whisper he said, “Okay, I think we’re safe. Let’s go.”

“Are you sure?” Natasha crossed her arms and arched one eyebrow. “I’m not sure you’ve spent enough time looking out for all the dangerous creatures here. A nearby bush rustled and she jumped, dropping into a low defensive position. When a small rabbit hopped out, Clint doubled over with a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter and James rushed forward to keep Natasha from attacking their new guide.

Clint straightened and wiped a tear from his eye. “Well, I guess that makes us all a little jumpy. Come on. Before we go off anywhere we’re going to have to get some food, and I know just the place.”

* * *

Sam Wilson rested at the top of a large pine tree. He snacked on some trail mix from his pouch while he scanned the forest below for any sign of human activity. There were some farmers with a wagon full of large barrels, a little girl with a basket swinging from her arm, a boy with a cow...but no sign of the escaped thieves. He sighed and leaned back in the tree.

Movement out of the corner of his eye made him pause and check again. He saw a blonde man shoving through the trees below him and grinned, standing on the branch and snapping his wings open. Checking the trajectories, he swooped down toward the man.

Halfway there, he realized his mistake. The mysterious man wasn’t Barton, and Sam pulled up at the last second to land on the ground in front of the man instead of tackling him.

“Good god, man!” The blonde man clutched at his heart and smiled. “Nearly scared me to death.”

“Sorry, sir.” Sam pulled a badge out of his back pocket and flashed it. “Imperial guard. I’m searching for an escaped criminal.”

“Well, don’t let me bother you, then.”

Sam nodded and turned to leave, but the man called after him again. “You can’t be searching alone, can you? Where’s the rest of your team?”

“We’re searching the forest. There are actually several criminals we are working to apprehend. If you see anything suspicious, just let one of us know and we’ll be right there to deal with it.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Thank you. Good to know you’re all here protecting us.”

Sam ran to pick up speed and jumped up to catch a bit of breeze and get back into the air. Once he was up and circling back to his pine, he glanced down. The man had turned around from his original direction and was walking quickly back into the forest. Sam shrugged it off and continued his search.

* * *

“Don’t worry, we’re almost there.” Clint walked quickly ahead of his companions, trusting that they would not attempt to stab him in the back while he was still helping him. Not that he’d actually seen any weapons on either of them, but it was impossible to be too careful.

Natasha sniffed the air, her nose wrinkling. “Are we going to a garbage dump?”

Clint chuckled loudly. Probably too loudly, and too awkwardly, judging by the way James and Natasha looked at him. “Haha, no, just one of the best eateries this side of the lake. Here we go!” They rounded a bend in the road and he threw out his hand. “Welcome to the Tower,” he said, pointing to the squat, one-story building slouched on the side of the road.

James actually stopped in the middle of the path, and Natasha and Clint slowed to a stop a few seconds later to wait for him. As they did, a man went flying out one of the windows, tumbling down a nearby slope with a loud shout.

“All right, let’s go. Food’s indoors, not all the way out here.” Clint walked quickly. Either his companions would follow him, fine, or they wouldn’t, also fine. Probably better, even, since it would give him a chance to get away and meet up with the twins to let them know what was going on. As he stepped inside the dirty tavern, he snuck a glance over his shoulder and saw James and Natasha practically breathing down his neck. If Clint didn’t know better, he’d think James looked a little nervous.

When the door swung open, conversation in the crowded room ground quickly to a halt. Clint grinned and waved as he made his way up to the bar. “Hey, everyone! Good to see you all, how’re you doing. Logan, you growing out your sideburns? They’re looking great. Benjy, you ever get something for that skin condition?” He sauntered up to the bar and leaned against the counter. “Volstagg! How’s it hanging, buddy? I’m gonna need some drinks and plates of whatever’s cheap for me and my friends here.”

Natasha’s expression was blank except for the uptilt of her head and slight curl of her lip. She didn’t touch anything, managing to slip between the people and furniture. She stayed close to James, whose initial nervousness had faded into a dark glower that he turned on anyone who even glanced at him. He seemed to sink into a fighting stance, legs wide and arms loose even as he walked up to Clint.

“Isn’t this place great?” Clint kept a wide smile on his face. “These guys are just the best at hospitality, especially toward complete strangers. Don’t worry, you’ll feel at home in no time. Though, of course, if you feel really uncomfortable, I suppose I could just take you back to the tower. I mean, if you can’t feel at home around these lovely people, I don’t know how you’re going to manage once we’re actually in the capital.”

“You’re taking these two to the capital?” Volstagg said slowly. He was running a dirty rag along the equally filthy bartop, back and forth in the same spot.

“Something wrong with a couple of travelers wanting to visit the capital?” Clint raised an eyebrow. “Hey, the manager in?”

“Thor’s in the back.” Volstagg looked at James again. “I’ll go grab him.” He disappeared through a back door, leaving the rag on the bartop.

“Hey Barton!” a loud voice called.

Clint sighed and forced another smile onto his face as he turned back to the room. “Oh, hey there, Brock. Didn’t see you there. You’re looking pretty good, glad to see you made it out of prison without too much trouble. What’ve you been up to recently?”

Brock had a big smile on his face, but Clint was sure that the smile meant _’Watch your back Barton because soon I’ll stick a knife in it.’_ “Not doing too bad. Got popped from the cooler about a month ago, looking for some new jobs. I heard you got yourself a nice set-up yourself, actually. Word is you just tried to go after the shield.”

Everyone in the room seemed to tense up all at once, turning to stare at Clint.

Logan shrugged and lit another cigar. “Nah. Even Barton’s not that dumb.”

“Heard he and some kids broke into the palace to grab it. Stark got all the guards out looking for ‘em. Forest is flooded with soldiers searching for this idiot. They even got new flyers made up.” Brock pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and unfolded it for everyone to see. “Wanted, Clint Barton, for stealing the king’s shield.”

“Let me see that.” The paper got snatched away and scanned, then passed on as people around the room started to look murderously at Clint.

“So.” Natasha stepped up next to Clint. “These are those very hospitable people you were talking about?”

“You know, I was really hoping for a little more solidarity, not gonna lie.” Clint spun at the feel of a huge hand clapped over his shoulder. “Thor!” he exclaimed. “Good god, you almost gave me a heart attack. It’s good to see you!” He held out his hands for a hug.

Thor crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at Clint. “You stole the shield of the good sir Steven?”

“Uh. It’s not what it looks like?” Clint winced, ready for the blow he was sure was coming. He glanced over his shoulder at the other people in the room all looking like they were about to launch themselves at him.

Suddenly, there was a solid presence between him and the rest of the room. James stood, hands clenched, and glowered at everyone else in the tavern. “No,” he said. “This man is with me.”

Clint stared in shock at James. Was it wrong for him to be so insanely turned on right now by a man who could probably kill him with his little finger? He turned to look at Natasha, who was poised to launch at Thor and stared between the two assassins for a minute. “Uh. Okay, then. Yep. We’ll just...we’ll just be on our way...then…”

“What the hell, Barton?” Brock asked. “Stealing the shield and now taking a couple of assassins to get rid of Stark? Gonna pretend you’re long-lost Rogers finally come in from the cold? Take over the kingdom with the help of your criminal buddies?”

And suddenly James looked lost again. His hands unclenched, and he looked down at his metal fist. Then he looked up again. “I’m not...I don’t want to kill anyone. I just want to find… someone....”

Clint watched James for a minute before turning to look at Thor. “It’s not what it looks like,” he said. “I know this looks bad. But I swear to you, I’m going to make everything right. The team is being assembled.”

Thor stepped back in surprise at the words. He nodded a few times and turned to whisper to Volstagg. “I can let you through the back passage,” he murmured to Clint. “That should buy you some time. If the guards really are after you, though, I’m not sure how much use it will be.”

“Thanks.” Clint tapped James on the shoulder and jerked his head toward the back of the tavern. They all followed Thor through the back room, with Volstagg placating the other customers with promises that the criminals would be brought to justice.

In the back, Thor slid a large table across the floor and lifted a trapdoor to let Clint, James, and Natasha down into an underground passage. “Go quickly. And be safe.”

“You as well, mighty warrior.” Clint clasped Thor’s hand in a firm shake before dropping down into the ground. “I’ll see you when we are all together.”

Volstagg stuck his head in through the door. “Thor, the guards are here. You need to get them out of here, now!”

Natasha and James dropped silently into the passage. Clint didn’t wait for the thud and scrape of the trapdoor closing and the table being put back into place before he started racing down the tunnel, away from the guards and toward the capital, the two fighters still close on his heels.

* * *

“Excuse me, gentlemen, let me through, let me… Royal Guard here, coming through!” The armored man shoved through the crowd of scowling tavern patrons and walked straight up to the bar. He slammed a hand down against the bartop and grimaced when it came away sticky. “I got a tip that you had a wanted criminal here.”

Thor crossed his arms across his chest and looked down at the man. “And who are you?”

The man tapped a badge on his chest with a large star that underneath said ‘Captain Happy.’ “I’m the Captain of the Royal Guard, and I am asking you a question. Do you have any information on the criminal known as Hawkeye?”

“Sorry, haven’t seen him,” Thor said. “Must’ve gotten a bad tip.”

“They said he was here.” Happy jammed his finger down against the sticky bartop. “I got a specific lead saying that you had Barton here, at this establishment, and now that I get here you’re saying that someone just lied to throw me off the trail.”

“That is exactly what I’m telling you,” Thor said. He looked over the room, trying to figure out who exactly had gone to get the guards anyway. No one here particularly liked Barton right now; going after the shield was tantamount to treason. But none of them would have wanted to bring in a bunch of guards, either, not to the Tower.

In the back corner, Brock Rumlow stood whispering with a small group of friends. They nodded and split up, with Brock slipping out the front door. Thor could just see him through the window, speaking with an older blonde man that Thor didn’t recognize. But that was a situation he’d have to deal with later, when he wasn’t faced with an irate member of Stark’s guard.

“Don’t think that you’re going to get away with lying to me like this,” Happy said. “I’ve got a nose for liars, and this place reeks of it.”

“I’m pretty sure this place just reeks in general, buddy,” Logan grumbled. He blew a smoke ring from his cigar and drained the last of his beer.

The door swung open. The man in the doorway hit a button on his chest, causing the large wings on his back to fold in so he could walk through the door. He strode confidently through the crowd until he stood next to Happy. “Sorry I’m late. What’d I miss?”

“Good to see you, Wilson,” Happy said before pointing an accusatory finger at Thor. “We have reports that the perpetrator came in here, but this man refuses to acknowledge the truth!”

Wilson smiled. “Is that so? Well, if there’s nobody here, then I’m sure our good friend here won’t mind us double-checking, just to set our minds at ease. Can we examine your back room?”

“Of course.” Thor lifted a section of the bar so the guards could all walk through. He followed the last of them into the back room, where Wilson was already on his knees inspecting the floor under the table. “Uh, I’d appreciate if you didn’t open that,” Thor said as Sam lifted the ring to the trapdoor. “I’m storing some very expensive mead down there that needs to age in darkness for a month or it will be ruined.”

“Charge the losses to Tony Stark.” Wilson stood and gestured for several of the guards to shove away the table. He lifted the trapdoor and glanced down into the revealed tunnel. “Looks like this is where we’ll be getting out of your hair. Thank you very much, you’ve been a big help.” He led the rest of the guards into the tunnel.

With luck, Thor thought, Barton and his friends were already well away.

* * *

James was certain that if they went any slower they would all be going in reverse.

After an initial burst of speed, Barton had slowed down to a leisurely walk and was even trying to make small talk.

“So that was pretty impressive, back there. Got the whole room to stop for a minute.” Barton walked with his hands tucked behind his back, watching James from the side of his eye. “Where’d you learn a trick like that? Practice it in the mirror?”

“No.”

Natasha was ahead of them, scanning the tunnel ahead and reporting back every once in a while, always with a growing look of exasperation. Like James, she was anxious for them to be moving faster instead of dawdling in a tunnel. She poked her head around the nearest bend, rolled her eyes, and darted away again.

“So you’re not much of a talker, I’m seeing. How about a game? We can do questions. You ask me one, I’ll ask you one. I’ll go first.”

“No.”

“Then you go first. Go ahead. Ask away.”

“No.”

Barton sighed loudly. His shoulders sagged and his arms fell to hang low at his sides. “Look, you’re the one who chose me to be your travel buddy. I’m just trying to understand some things here. I’ll even stay away from the touchy subjects! I won’t mention the arm, or whatever got you put up in that tower. And frankly, I’m afraid to ask about how you found Natasha. Ow!”

Natasha glared at Barton, who rubbed a spot on his cheek where the small rock had hit him. Then she disappeared around the corner again. “Like I said,” Barton muttered. “But here’s my real question. If you wanted to find out about your dream guy so badly, why didn’t you leave that tower before?”

James’ steps faltered, and the blue eyes flashed in his vision. He shivered from the sudden cold, and his right arm came up to rub at his left shoulder. “I don’t…” he began quietly.

A shout from behind them made both James and Barton spin. They shared a quick glance before turning to pelt down the tunnel. They caught Natasha around the next corner and the three ran down the corridor and toward the exit that appeared only a few bends away. They emerged on the edge of a cliff, skidding to a stop just before a deep drop into an old canyon. _Quarry_ , James’ brain supplied, along with the mental image of laborers searching for a special metal.

“Okay, now what, fearless guide?” Natasha stared down into the quarry.

James started looking around for a way down. There was a tunnel at the base of the quarry that might lead out, and a rope ladder hanging off the edge of the ledge. Before he could start to climb down, a group of men burst through a boarded entrance to a mine.

“That man was in the tavern,” James said, pointing.

“Damn. Rumlow rounded up the Strike team. Those guys really don’t like me.” Barton looked about wildly, turning over his shoulder as a group of guards emerged from the tunnel.

“Let me guess,” Natasha said, “more people who don’t like you?”

One of the men pushed through the guards. He pressed a button on his chest, and a pair of wings unfolded from his back. He smirked and said, “I’d say just about everyone here doesn’t like Hawkeye right now.”

“Oh, hey, you again, nice to see you.” Barton looked around wildly. “Um.”

James recognized the panic on Barton’’s face. He grabbed Natasha first and thrust her toward the rope ladder. “I’ll follow you,” he said. Then he turned to face the guards at the tunnel.

The captain of the guard cracked his knuckles and stepped forward with a smile. “I’ve waited a long time for this.”

James sprang into motion. He dropped and swung his leg low, knocking the captain flat onto the ground. Then he rose up and used his metal arm to block the swing of a sword while pulling the dagger from the second soldier’s belt. He threw that into a third guard’s foot before using his left arm to punch the second man in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. A fourth man ran toward him, and James simply threw his arm out straight and let the guard run into him, knocking himself out.

“Oh man!” Barton said from behind James. “Wow, I have got to get me one of those arms. That was great!” He had his bow off his back and an arrow in hand, and James noticed then that three more guards were pinned by their shirts against the canyon wall.

“Not bad.” The winged man stepped forward. “But now it’s--hey!” He cut off suddenly, as two more arrows thunked simultaneously into his pants, fixing him to the ground. “No, no, no, this is _not_ happening again.” He reached down to grab at the arrows only to have his sleeves pinned down as well. “Dammit!”

James turned to Barton, who was still grinning and lowering his bow. “Look at us. We make a pretty good team.”

“James!” Natasha called. He poked his head over the edge of the cliff to look at her. She was still caught midway down the ladder, with the Strike team circling below and one man starting to climb up. “Got any other good escape plans?” She made her way quickly back up the ladder.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got this one.” Barton reached onto his back and pulled out another couple arrows. “Everybody get ready.” He shot one arrow down at the Strike team, and they disappeared from view in a cloud of smoke. Then he shot a second arrow into one of the support beams for a long wooden trench that carried water from the dam behind them down toward the river. A span of rope unspooled behind the grappling arrow, and Barton replaced the bow on his back before reaching out a hand to James. “You coming, Lefty?”

James grabbed the rope and wrapped an arm around Natasha. Barton in turn kept one hand on the rope and held onto James with his other. All three jumped just as one of the guards started to moan and reach toward them.

As the three hurtled toward the ground, James wondered if he really should have trusted his life to such a thin strand of rope and the man who had brought it. They fell almost directly toward the Strike team, who all began to shout through the smoke and pull out their weapons. James lost track of the shouting in the moment just before the rope caught their weight, feeling only a blast of cold and a sense of panic.

“Legs up!” Barton shouted as they sailed just over the heads of the men below them. The rope miraculously held as they began their upward arc away from the ground. “Ha!” Barton shouted down at Rumlow. “You should see your faces, because you look--”

“Rock!” Natasha shouted, shielding herself behind James. He managed to turn at the last second so his left arm hit the face of the opposing cliff, but Clint slammed hard against the wall and lost his grip on the rope. James watched in terror as the archer fell ten feet toward the ground in a dead drop.

“Clint!” he shouted.

Above his head, the support they were hanging from groaned and began to splinter. James looked up just in time to see the large beam break in two, leaving him and Natasha with no support and the large water trough unbalanced and tipping to one side. During the split second of freefall, he felt chills run up his spine again and he reached out for a hand that wasn’t there to catch him. Then he landed on the ground and rolled until he could jump back up to a standing position.

Clint still was lying spread-eagle on the ground by the cliff wall. James ran toward him, ignoring Natasha’s shouts and the loud creaks above his head. As he reached Clint, the man opened his eyes blearily and moaned, “If you’re an angel, tell me why death hurts so much.”

“Come on,” James grunted. He grabbed Clint’s arm and pulled him to his feet. Then he turned to Natasha, who was frantically pulling on his arm, and they all looked up at the collapsing structure and the large dam it connected to. “Run,” James said, shoving at Clint and Natasha. “Run!”

The trio sprinted toward the nearest tunnel. Natasha ducked in first, followed by James and Clint. With a loud crash, the dam broke, and the resulting wave of water sent logs and boulders crashing down, with a pile of debris blocking up the entrance to the tunnel and cutting off their return.

“It’s a dead end!” Natasha shouted. “There’s no exit through here.”

The water continued to pour in through the cracks in the debris, slowly rising around them. All three climbed to the furthest and highest point in the cave, pushing at the solid wall as though it would give under their hands. Clint dove beneath the water while James attempted to pull at a small crack in the wall. He came up spluttering a moment later, shaking his head.

“It’s no use. I can’t see a thing down there.”

James took a deep breath and dove under the water, but as soon as the cold water covered his head he froze, seeing only blue eyes getting farther and farther away as he screamed--

He gasped as he hit air again, Clint’s hands on his shoulders dragging him up and shaking him back to awareness. “Hey, there’s no point! It’s pitch black under there.”

A sound forced its way out of James’ chest, and with horror he realized that it was a sob. He looked up at Clint, terrified by the cold and the rising water.

“I’m going to keep looking.” Natasha took a deep breath and dove down into the water before anyone could stop her.

James shivered in the cold water. Images kept flashing through his mind, of falling and crashing and pain, and he didn’t realize he was screaming again until he could feel Clint’s hands on his shoulders, shaking him.

“Hey, hey! James! Look at me, I’m right here, okay? Just look at me. Deep breaths.”

Clint’s eyes were blue. Not the same blue as the person in James’ dreams, but a very nice blue nonetheless. They were warm, and thoughtful, and maybe Clint was annoying and cocky and kind of an idiot, but he was also warm and caring, and he was right here trying to help.

James looked down at the spot where Natasha had ducked down. “I should help her look, I should try to dig us out--”

Natasha emerged just to take another deep breath and duck back under. James reached out to her, but Clint caught his hand.

“Hey.” Clint was staring at James. Why was he staring? “I know this isn’t really the way I thought I was going to go, but here we are so...I guess this is going to sound really dumb, but full confession before I die.” He took a deep breath. “I’m not really a criminal, not anymore anyway, and I am kind of terrified of you, but I think I’m going to kiss you now so that at least you’ll kill me quickly and this’ll all be over with.”

The sudden press of Clint’s lips against his stunned James and left him frozen in place, aware only of that small touch. And as Clint pulled away, James followed him, chasing after the kiss until Clint was too far out of reach.

“Okay, James,” Clint said. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Now make it quick.”

James opened his mouth to tell him it was okay, it was actually very nice, and said, “Bucky.”

Clint cracked one eye open. “I’m sorry?”

“I think my name is--”

Natasha’s head breached the water again and she flung her hair around, spraying water across both men. “James, get down here. I followed the water current, and I think we can punch our way out of here, but I’m going to need your arm.”

James took a deep breath, shuddering breath. He turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and smiled at Clint’s concerned look. Steeling himself against the memories, James ducked beneath the water. He could feel the cold leaving strange shadows at the corner of his mind, but then Clint’s hand was on his shoulder again and trailing down his arm, leading him down further and offering a spot of warmth in the cold dark. He was guided to a pile of rocks and began to pry at them, punching his way through even as he could feel his breath starting to run out.

Suddenly there were no more rocks to pull away, and they were tumbling out and into open air again. James splashed into a stream of water and pulled himself up to the surface. He took a deep breath of air and checked around him. Natasha was already pulling herself onto the nearby bank, her bright red hair letting James spot her easily, and Clint--

James spun in the water to look for Clint. He heard a large splash and a loud gasp behind him and reached backward without thinking to grab the man and pull him toward shore. When everyone was lying on the bank, gasping and coughing, James felt something growing in his chest, building until it burst out as a chuckle that evolved into a loud laugh.

“We made it.” James turned to Clint and grabbed him by the neck. Clint stilled beneath his grip and looked a little panicked as James pulled him in and pressed their mouths together again in a frantic kiss. “We made it,” he said again, dropping to the ground and laughing again.

Clint sounded completely baffled when he said, “Are we sure I’m not dead?”

* * *

Brock Rumlow emerged from the long side tunnel still shaking his head to get the water out of his ears. He stepped away from the hollowed tree trunk to make room for the rest of his teammates to emerge while he took stock of everything that had been destroyed when they were hit with the wave of water from the dam.

“It was a simple task, I thought.”

The calm voice behind him made Brock stop in the middle of squeezing out his shirt and turn his head slowly to look over his shoulder. Alexander Pierce leaned calmly against a large boulder, inspecting his gold watch.

“Find the Winter Soldier and bring him back to me. I’m really not sure the level of incompetence needed to mistake my orders.”

“Even if it was just the Soldier you know it wouldn’t be that easy.” Brock spat onto the ground, noting with disinterest the blood from biting his tongue mixed with saliva. “And it wasn’t only him there. Barton’s an idiot, but a competent one, and that girl’s a fighter, too.”

Pierce finally looked directly at Brock and raised an eyebrow. “You’re saying that they’re too much for you?”

“No. Just that we’ll need some more time. Take out Barton and the girl first, get him on his own.”

The rest of the Strike team finished crawling out of the tunnel and getting reoriented after being thrown through the wash. They arrayed themselves behind Brock, looking sullen and slightly sheepish.

“Leave the girl,” Pierce said. “I have plans for her. But as I recall you have a bit of history with Barton, don’t you?”

Brock ground his teeth, remembering the time he and Clint had worked on a team together, before Clint decided to turn everyone in to the authorities and sneak away in the mess. “Yeah, but it’s not going to affect me. I can do the job.”

“Actually, I’m thinking we could use that anger.” Pierce looked over the team. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll work on bringing in the Asset. You all are in charge of taking care of Barton, and the girl if needed. Wait for my orders. I’m not going to let you all destroy everything because of another stupid mistake.”

The implication that he would mess up again left Brock with an itch under his skin, but the promise that he could soon scratch it by getting rid of Clint Barton made Pierce’s offer too good to refuse.

* * *

Clint finished stoking up the fire again and sat down warily on the log next to James. Movement out of the corner of his eye made him jump up again, but it was only James raising another bite of food to his mouth. Clint forced himself to sit down again, though he couldn’t quite manage to keep his fingers from dancing across his knee.

“I’m not going to hurt you.” James picked at the last of his leg of roasted rabbit. “Stop freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out. Are you freaking out? I’m just, uh, well I’m just really interested in that really neat arm of yours, just managed to punch through a couple of nice big boulders with that, pretty impressive, how long have you had that sort of weapon up your sleeve?” Clint winced at his own statement. “That...that wasn’t supposed to be a joke or anything. I’m sorry. I’m shutting up now.”

When he glanced over at James, though, the man was staring thoughtfully into the fire. “I don’t remember what it was like before I had this. To me, it’s like I’ve been this way forever.”

Clint spared a look at Natasha, who was glaring down at her food. It seemed obvious that she was angry, but what about Clint could only guess.

“That sounds awful. So all you remember is being in that tower?”

“It’s not so bad.” James shrugged. “The man who cares for me there, Pierce, told me how he found me on the road, nearly dead from blood loss and exposure. He took me in, found a doctor that made this arm for me. When I finally woke up, I couldn’t remember anything. I’d been hurt too badly. Since then, Pierce has been training me. He said that whoever hurt me is probably still out there, waiting to finish the job they started.”

“Well, looks to me like the training is going pretty well. You took down those guards like they were yesterday’s beef jerky. So why not go off on your own now that you’re trained?”

“Pierce took care of me. And he’s protected me. Besides, I have no idea who was coming for me, how many of them there are. I still get overwhelmed. I’m still not as strong as I need to be.”

“We never are, though.” Clint leaned forward on his knees so he could try to catch James’ eye. “I mean, if I never did anything because I was scared, I’d still be back with the old farmer that used to beat me.”

It was a slip, the first Clint had made in a long time, and he sighed when Natasha and James both looked at him expectantly. He ran a hand down his face and sighed. “That wasn’t...I didn’t mean to...ugh. Look, I’ll spare you the sob story of poor orphan Clint Barton. It’s not like we need anything else to make this evening more of a downer.”

“No no,” Natasha said. “We shared. Now it’s your turn.”

Clint narrowed his eyes at her. “He shared,” he said, tilting his head toward James. “You didn’t.”

“Mom was killed by bandits as we traveled, I ran away, found this guy’s tower, I’ve been hiding there ever since. Your turn.” She propped her chin on both hands and stared across the flames.

“Fine!” Clint threw up his hands. “All right. Well. When I was a kid, still getting beaten by my dad and then, when he died, by the farmer who took me in, I drank up all the stories of this amazing kingdom at the corner of the continent. Ruled by the heroes that protected the land, a place where all people were cared for and protected. Somewhere little kids weren’t beaten and left alone, which was a big dream for little Clint Barton. So one day, my big brother Barney and I decided to run away. We joined a traveling circus headed for this amazing, storybook kingdom. I started practicing to be a part of the circus, under the mentor Trick Shot, who taught me to shoot.

“But then we finally got to the kingdom, and all our dreams started to fall apart. The heroes who should be ruling the kingdom were missing, and in their absence crime had risen up. Even the circus I was with turned out to be full of thieves, stealing from their patrons and committing larger robberies everywhere they went. I had to help them just to survive. And just like anything that’s practiced enough, I got really good. Practically a master thief.”

Natasha hummed. “And you stole this shield.”

“Well, yeah. Eventually. Though I did try to go straight, you know. Ran off from the circus, left my brother, turned in the group of thieves I was traveling with. But every time I turned around it seemed I ended up stealing again. I guess I was just always destined to be a thief.”

Clint’s gaze drifted over to James. The man had proven difficult to get a read on, what with his stony countenance and sudden whiplash of emotions, but right now he looked...pensive? Sad? Concerned? Apparently still really difficult to get a read on, though the mood seemed to be fairly sympathetic.

“You shouldn’t have to do anything,” James said. “If you don’t want to be a thief, then you shouldn’t have to be one.”

“Well, it would be nice, but I think we both know that our situations get a pretty big say in what we become.” Clint’s words are harsh, and James looks a little crestfallen at them. Clint glances at Natasha, who is starting to look a little furious, and he hurries to come up with something to fix his mistake. “But they don’t control everything, right? I mean, I certainly never expected to meet you. Tell you what. I’ll find a way to stop stealing if you promise to keep on following your dreams and not just let yourself be locked up in that tower forever. Deal?”

A quick check with Natasha showed that she seemed appeased by the statement. And the small smile from James was enough to make Clint give up his thievery forever. Aww, heart, when had that happened?

Clint coughed loudly and stood up. He realized only then how close he had managed to drift to James, who startled back from his sudden movement. “Well it uh, looks like we’re going to need more firewood. So I’m going to go take care of that. I’ll be right back.”

Natasha stood as well. “I’ll come with you.” She followed him away from the circle of light and into the surrounding woods where they began to collect some of the fallen branches littering the ground.

“Coming to make sure I don’t run away, huh?” Clint said, forcing a smile. “Or are you coming to kill me for kissing James?”

“Neither.” Natasha stepped up right next to him and dropped down to pick up another stick. “I wanted to say thank you. For leading us out here, and for talking to him. For sharing with us. I…” She flipped her hair back and shuffled the branches in her arms. “I can’t speak for James, but I’m tired of living in that tower. I don’t want to leave him, but I don’t think I can go back to just sitting and waiting for something to happen.”

Clint hefted a larger branch and added it to the pile in his left arm. “That is...really not what I was expecting you to say. But I’m happy for you. You should go do whatever you want. You seem really smart. I bet you could take over the world if you wanted.”

She smiled and stepped in closer. Clint tried unsuccessfully not to flinch away. Natasha laughed. “You really are expecting to get in trouble for kissing him, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t exactly ask permission. It was kind of a last-act thing, and I really didn’t expect to survive the experience. I just didn’t want to lose the chance forever.”

“Well you can stop worrying now. He kissed you back, so you’re even. Not that I think he’d say no to more. He seems to really like you.”

“Really? That’s his ‘I really like you’ face?”

Natasha frowned suddenly and turned away. “When he’s with Pierce, everything he is just drains away. This is the most _alive_ I think I’ve ever seen him.” She managed a small smile as she looked back at Clint. “Despite your unbelievable buffoonery, I think that you might actually be good for him.”

“...thanks?”

“You’re welcome. Now let’s get back before you fall and hurt yourself.”

* * *

James watched Clint and Natasha disappear into the treeline before refocusing his attention on the fire in front of him.

“Thank god. I thought they’d never leave.”

James jumped and spun, already dropping low into a fighting crouch as he searched the shadows for whoever had come up on him. It was only once he caught the glint of pale blue eyes and graying blonde hair that he realized who had spoken and pulled up into parade rest, eyes cast down to the ground.

“Sir,” he said, panicky and breathless despite his attempts to calm down. _Fear is a weakness, and weakness brings destruction. Safety lies in stillness._ “How did you find me?”

“You have to ask? You’ve left quite a trail of destruction in your wake already. So many people who almost died. Even you and your companions, trapped and dying because you still weren’t able to stop it.”

“I--” James wanted to argue, but all he could see was Clint and Natasha frantically trying to get out of the cave, being threatened by the people at the tavern, falling, falling into the snow. His vision cleared, and he realized he was on his knees, breathing heavily.

“James. You are learning so much. And someday, you could become a beacon of hope for people like this. With the skills I can give you, you will shape this century. You can’t know this, but society is at a tipping point between order and chaos. Together, we can give it a push. But for that to happen, you need to come home where it’s safe. There we can keep working to hone your skills and turn you into the great man we both know you can be.”

James’ eyes fluttered shut. He took one deep breath after another to steady himself. The feel of Pierce’s palm was warm against his shoulder, at least where he could feel it before it faded into metal.

“Come back with me, James, and we’ll put this whole thing behind us. You can just forget.”

Pain seared at the back of James’ skull, and his eyes flew open. “No,” he said quietly, then again, louder, “No, I don’t want to forget.”

“You don’t want to forget the way that you almost died again? How you managed to nearly kill everyone around you?” Pierce drew away. He sneered, “Or is it that man you’re following? I saw the way you looked at him. But he can’t give you what you want. He’s a liar and a thief, and you’re fooling yourself if you think you can ever trust him. Why, even now he’s only with you because he’s afraid of you. You know that. You can see it in his eyes, in the way he flinches every time you move. He doesn’t believe in you, and he never will. And someday, you’ll let him down.”

“But he kissed me.”

Pierce’s gaze hardened. He drew away, pulling his hand back and dropping it to his side. “And you think that a kiss means something? That it can negate all the lies? That it will protect him when the time comes?”

“He’s not lying.”

“Fine, believe what you want. But when he’s gone, when he leaves you and you can’t protect him anymore, just remember that I’ll always be here for you. Just like I always have been.”

From the other side of the fire, James could hear the growing sounds of Clint and Natasha’s voices. Pierce seemed to notice it as well, and he drew back.

“Enjoy your time with your friends.” The last word was bitter, insincere. “I really do hope that this trip doesn’t end up killing you, or them.” With that, Pierce faded back into the night.

“Hey, you all right?”

James turned his head to look back at Natasha and Clint, each carrying a small pile of sticks. Both looked concerned, and Natasha seemed two seconds from throwing down her sticks and launching herself into some sort of action.

“Yeah, I’m…” He fought for an explanation as to why he was kneeling in the dirt. “I’m sorry, I just had another memory.”

And with that Natasha did drop her sticks. She was by James’ side in a second, laying a hand on his head. “Did it hurt?”

“A little. I’m fine, though. Really.” He forced a small smile.

“A memory, huh?” Clint set his own sticks down by the fire and started to build it up again. “Sounds like you’re starting to heal. What did you remember this time?”

James caught himself staring at Clint for a moment too long. “Punching some loudmouth who was trying to pick on my friend,” he said quickly, surprised to realize that he actually did remember that. “Who picks on someone so scrawny?”

“Bullies,” Clint supplied.

“I don’t like bullies.”

Clint’s responding laugh was sudden and brief. “Yeah, man. Me neither.”

* * *

Sam shoved through the trees, cursing everything that came to mind. He cursed the water that had ruined his wingpack, the blisters on his feet, the forest and the trees, and, most of all, Clint Barton. What had started as a simple chase through the forest had turned into way more hassle than it ever should have been, and Sam just hoped that whatever luck gods had been on Barton’s side were finally ready to change teams.

Just as he thought that, Sam stepped around another bush and came upon a clearing holding three sleeping figures huddled around a dead campfire. He blinked at the sight of Barton, curled up on his side and using a rock for a pillow, while nearby his two companions curled up back to back on the ground.

Sam stalked over to Barton and leaned over him. As the shadow crossed his face, the thief frowned and blinked his eyes open. He stared blearily up at Sam, yawned hugely, and said, “Well, I hope you’re here to apologize.”

In hindsight, Sam realized, he probably should’ve expected Barton to call out for his companions. And maybe putting the handcuffs on before trying to drag the thief away would’ve been a good idea. Because before Sam could blink, he was being pulled away by a large metal arm wrapped around his chest. He just managed to grab hold of Barton’s boot as he was pulled back, but the man just kicked it off and hopped away to hide behind the small redhead he was traveling with.

“What the hell?” Sam waved the boot and tried to pry away the arm around his middle, but it felt like trying to move a statue. “Let me go! I am a member of the king’s guard, and I order you to unhand me so that I can arrest that wanted criminal.” He kicked at the legs behind him, but there was no response from the man holding him.

“Well, what do we do with him?” the redhead asked. “Should we tie him up here and leave him so he doesn’t cause problems?”

Sam’s struggles to get free renewed with extra vigor.

“No, no, Natasha, you can’t just leave people tied up in the forest,” Barton said. “There’s bears and stuff here. And real criminals, not just people trying to distribute the wealth a little more evenly.”

Sam barked out a laugh. “Is that the way you see yourself? Just trying to distribute the wealth a little more into your own pockets?”

“Well I certainly wouldn’t say no to a little more padding,” Clint mumbled. “But that’s not the point. We can’t just leave him here.”

Natasha glared at Sam. “We also can’t let him go. Even if he doesn’t try to come after you again alone, he’ll go get more guards and they’ll all come after you. We won’t be able to stop them every time.”

“Then we take him with us.” Sam was startled by the growl of the man holding him. He’d been so completely immobile that it had almost felt like actually being held by a statue.

“He’ll just turn me in as soon as we get back into the capital. I think we should try to take him back to the Tower,” Clint suggested.

“That’s half a day’s walk in the wrong direction.” Natasha shook her head. “He’ll have to come with us. And we’ll all just keep an eye on him.”

Barton snorted, and Sam wished he could echo the sentiment. “Yeah, that’s going to go great.”

Suddenly, the arm around his waist shifted, and Sam was spun around to stare at the man who’d been holding him. He resisted the urge to squirm under the intense focus.

“I don’t intend to hurt you,” the man said in a low voice. “You are simply someone trying to do your job. But I am going to the capital today, and if anything stops me from learning what I need to, I will be very unhappy.”

Sam got the distinct impression that when this man was unhappy with people, they didn’t necessarily make it to the next day. He swallowed hard.

“It’s not a permanent thing,” Natasha added. She stepped forward and laid a hand on Sam’s arm. “Just for today. Then you’ll be free of us.”

“I just want to learn about the king.” The man sounded so...sad. It didn’t feel right, coming from someone who had been so intimidating just a moment before, and the juxtaposition left Sam slowly nodding his head.

“One day, and then I get to bring this guy to justice?”

Barton snorted for some reason, muttering something like “bring me back to justice, doesn’t even know where he’s at” while covering his hand with his mouth. Sam glared at him.

“I’m going to need that shield back,” Sam demanded.

“We can hash that part out later,” Barton shrugged. “For now...teammates?” He extended his hand.

Sam reluctantly shook hands. “If we’re going to be stuck together, I’d like to know who I’m working with,” he said. “I’m Sam Wilson.”

“I’m the Incredible Hawkeye,” Barton said with a smirk. “That’s Natasha, and that’s James.” The way Barton’s voice softened on the last name told Sam more than he had ever wanted to know about the man’s love life, and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “And that,” Barton continued, pointing, “is my shoe.”

Sam threw the shoe back and stepped back to let everyone else gathered their things. He may have also not-completely-accidentally stepped on Barton’s bare foot as he passed, but there was no way anyone could ever get him to admit it.

* * *

Okay, so this looked bad.

After stealing the shield of the missing king, Clint was chased through the forest and stumbled upon a tower with an amnesiac assassin and a runaway orphan who looked just as deadly. He promised to lead these two potential killers to the capital, supposedly to meet the king.

Except the king wasn’t in the capital, he was missing, and despite his best efforts Clint has been unable to get away from the assassins before that fact was revealed, and then suddenly they were actually there with a guard waiting to lock him away for the theft as soon as the day was done.

To top it all off, Clint wasn’t even sure if he wanted to get away from this giant mess anymore, even if he could.

Leaving now would mean abandoning James and Natasha in the city. And while their chat in the forest left Clint believing that Natasha would be fine on her own, he’s really not sure about James, who kept having weird moments where he lost focus and seemed to lose track of what time he was even in. He needed help, and someone to help him find answers. The capital may not have Steve, but it still held some answers.

Clint’d been in worse situations than this before. He squared his shoulders and followed James through the forest toward the capital bridge, making sure to keep a careful distance between himself and Wilson, who kept managing to shove and elbow him despite their agreement to play nice for the day. And when he couldn’t avoid Wilson, well, it was only fair to shove back a little, right? Or punch back, or go for the throat--at which point Natasha stepped in and actively stood between Clint and the guard.

When the castle and the bridge over to the capital came into view, James stopped in his tracks.

“You all right there?” Clint asked, standing close enough that his left hand brushed against James’ right.

James nodded. “It’s...it’s beautiful,” he whispered. His hand wrapped around Clint’s fingers. “I don’t know…”

“Hey.” Clint squeezed James’s hand and smiled. “It’s okay to be nervous. Come on. I’ll take care of you.”

James looked a little pained at the thought, but he followed along as Clint tugged him down the hill and onto the bridge.

They all stopped again at the gate as James and Natasha took in the large arches and painted murals along the walls. Every time they took a turn, it seemed, there was something else to stop and look at. Vendors selling meat and candy, shops displaying jewelry or old books, children playing hopscotch in the street, even just people laughing in the marketplace. Everything was fresh and new to Natasha and James, and their wonder at it all left Clint with a warm glow in his chest.

James stopped once to watch a group of children chasing each other, shrieking with laughter as they played through the streets. He looked so happy in that brief moment, and Clint thought he understood what Natasha might mean about him being more alive now than he had been before. He remembered coming back last night, how blank James had been as he knelt in the dust. The comparison left Clint’s heart breaking, and he swore to himself that he’d never let James go back to a place where he could only be that blank, emotionless slate.

“So.” Sam came up and leaned an elbow against Clint’s shoulder. “You and him, huh?”

“What?” Clint asked. He could feel his face going red. “No, what-what are you talking about?”

“Oh, so in the tower you’re all ‘I know not whence you came,’ but now you’re embarrassed?” Natasha hopped up onto the low wall behind them. “Didn’t you just kiss the guy yesterday?”

“Look, it was a spur of the moment thing, all right? Guy’s hot, that’s all.” Clint stepped forward and grabbed Bucky’s wrist before dropping it like a hot potato when he remembered that Wilson and Natasha were examining his every move. “Come on. I know where we need to go.”

Near the center of town, a large memorial was set up for the lost king. Clint smiled up at the large mosaic of the man, standing with his old guard of heroes.

“That’s…” James said, walking up and trailing his fingers against the mosaic. “He looks…”

“That’s King Steven,” Clint said. “He went missing years ago, though.”

James turned quickly to Clint. “You said we would go to him!”

“He’s been missing for years! This place has the best collection of knowledge about the king and his team. If you’re looking for him, this is the best place to start.”

“Who are those others he’s with?” Natasha asked, coming up to stand next to them. She reached out herself, not to touch Steve but the man next to him. She squinted at the unclear image.

“They’re the last team of heroes.” Sam came up on her other side. He shot one more glare at Clint before continuing the story. “Before the king went missing, he assembled a team to protect the country. We’ve always had heroes in our country to lead us. There were enemies at the border, and they drove them back up into the north. But then King Steven’s best friend died, and the king himself went missing chasing the Red Skull. No one’s seen either of them since.”

“I know him,” James said. He stared up at the mosaic a while longer. “I need to find out more.”

“Museum’s this way. And there’s a library,” Clint said.

Sam nodded. “Plus the ceremony tonight. Though I’m not sure you’re gonna find much out through that.”

“What ceremony?” James asked.

“That’s tonight? I totally forgot.” Clint turned to look at Natasha, then James. “Every year on the king’s birthday, they put on a light show. They start with paper lanterns, one from just about everyone in the city. Then Stark puts together his own show, with lights all over town and fireworks. It’s pretty spectacular.”

Natasha tilted her head to one side. “Who’s Stark?”

“He’s the jerk currently in charge,” Clint said over top of Sam’s “He’s the start of a new generation of heroes.” They both turned to look at each other and frowned. “What?” they said simultaneously.

“Stark is the greatest mind of this age,” Sam said. “He created a suit of armor that allows him to fight off whole large bands of brigands on his own.”

“He’s practically usurped the throne in the king’s absence,” Clint argued.

“If the king were here, I’d be behind him, one hundred percent.” Sam shrugged. “But this place needs someone to protect us, and right now, that’s Tony Stark. You have to take your heroes where you can get them.”

“Unbelievable.” Clint muttered and turned away. “Not even dead in the ground yet and already getting wiped away by the history books. Books. Books! I promised to take you to the library. Let’s go.”

They spent hours in the library and museum, going over every scrap of information about the battles between the Howling Commandos and the Red Skull. Clint read until his eyes burned, then wandered out to get them all food. He stood in line at a stand for meat on a stick, realizing as he did so that no one was around him. Sam was helping James and Natasha research. If he wanted to get away, get back to the twins, who were probably wondering where in the world he’d disappeared to, this was his moment. He purchased eight strips of meat and went back to the library to continue the search.

The library eventually closed and they all headed back out to the streets. An impromptu dance had begun in one of the open squares, with musicians playing together while the people swung around with no real order. Natasha’s eyes lit up at the sight, and she tugged at James, who refused to move, and then at Sam, pulling him into the square. They spun around each other, Natasha twirling and jumping around most of the other dancers, while James and Clint watched.

“Oh no,” Sam said, spotting them on the outskirts. “If I’m dancing, you’re dancing.” He grabbed Clint, who grabbed James, and they all began to spin around the square. Clint fumbled over the steps a few times before catching the basic pattern. When he looked up, James was dancing with a woman and looking completely uncomfortable. His footwork was perfect, but he was stiff and held his partner at arm’s length until she spun away. Clint threw his head back and laughed. He closed his eyes and spun again, and when he opened them he was standing in front of James, who was actually honest-to-god smiling.

Clint leaned in to do something stupid, but Natasha tugged James away before Clint could make an even bigger fool of himself. “To the boats!” someone shouted and the crowd dispersed.

“Come on,” Clint said, rubbing the back of his neck and hoping he was imagining the heat rising there. “You’ll want to see this.”

* * *

Tony Stark straightened his tie in the mirror one more time. He could hear the door brush open behind him, and he turned with a bright smile. “All right,” he said, “let’s give these people a show.”

“Tony.” Pepper stepped in close to him. She rested a hand on his chest, just over the place where the tie was carefully covering the reactor over his heart. “You know it’s okay if…”

“I’m fine, Pepper. Bruce is going to help me keep looking something to stymie the poisoning, and that should give Rhodey enough time to find our lost Kingcicle, and hopefully we’ll have the shield back by then, so everything will keep on turning and no one has to be worried.”

“And if you can’t find something to keep you alive? If you can’t find the king? We’re running on a deadline here, Tony.”

“Hey.” Tony caught her hand in his and smiled. “It’s going to be okay. Someone’s always been there when the country needs it. Now I’m going to do everything I can to make sure we have the heroes we need to defend us, and not to brag, but I think I’m doing a hell of a job of it. But if all of my plans fall through, well, that’s why there are people like you, and Bruce, and Rhodey. You guys are the real heroes anyway, really. You keep me going.”

Pepper sighed. She changed the grip of their hands so they could walk together out onto the balcony, fingers intertwined. On a small table rested a paper lantern, already lit and just waiting to be released up into the sky.

“Let’s get this started then, shall we?” Tony stepped forward alone to untie the string and send the lantern drifting up into the air.

* * *

“Where are we going?” Natasha asked from her perch at the far end of the small rowboat.

“Well, I figured that since you came all this way, we may as well get a decent seat for the show.” Clint’s words answered Natasha, but he looked at James as he said them and smiled. Sam, sitting on the other end of the boat from Natasha, snorted. James caught himself smiling back.

They rowed out into the lake, halfway back to shore, and sat waiting for everything to begin. James stared down at his hands, clinging tightly to the edge of the boat.

“You okay?” Clint asked quietly, scooting in closer to him.

“I’m terrified,” James admitted.

“Why?”

James was surprised at the feel of a hand on his arm. It wasn’t Natasha, small and cold, reaching out to comfort him. It was large and warm, and when James tracked up the arm and up to Clint’s face, that was warm, too.

“I’ve been in that tower for years, wondering about what it might be like to be out, stuck living inside of old memories. Now we’re here, and I’m learning that all these things I remember are gone, and I may never get them back. We’re out here, honoring the memory of a man that I may not even know who has been gone for years. What if I’ve been trying to find someone who doesn’t exist anymore?”

“He does. I know the king is still out there.” Clint sounded so confident in the answer.

James felt a strange pain in his chest. “And if he is?” he whispered. “If I do find him, and he tells me who I am? Or who I was? How can I go back to being that person after everything that’s happened? What if the person I can’t find anymore...is me?”

“Well, then, that’s the good part.” Clint leaned in again, and James wanted to melt into his assurance. “You get to share with him all about the new you. You can stop living in memories and start to live as yourself. Your current self. Who is, for the record, a pretty fantastic person. I should know. I’ve met him.” He smirked.

James wondered what life would be like without constantly dreaming about those bright blue eyes that had brought him out here. Then he wondered what it might be like looking at a new pair of eyes, ones that were right here in front of him, full of warmth and smiles and promises.

“That sounds like a great idea,” he whispered. He fell in the rest of the way, his arms reaching out to wrap around Clint and their lips just brushing--

BANG!

The loud noise sent James reeling back, looking around wildly for the source of the noise. “Who’s there? Who’s shooting?”

Clint laughed a little and pointed up to where a huge burst of streaking light filled the sky, accompanied by another large boom. “Fireworks,” he explained. “Tony’s way of saying happy birthday to the king. He makes it more extravagant each year. Last year he managed to get it to spell out words and make pictures.”

“It’s incredible,” Natasha breathed.

“I take it you two have never seen fireworks before?” Clint asked.

James shook his head. “Not that I remember.”

“Then you’re in for quite a show.”

Clint leaned against James, their sides pressed together as they watched the fireworks show. Clint’s head slowly sank to rest against James’ shoulder, and James laid his own head on Clint’s. Their hands folded together, and James sighed with contentment at the touch.

Maybe it was time for a new dream.

For a finale, Stark managed to recreate the mural from the town, with King Steve and his Howling Commandos, a huge version of the shield serving as a backdrop. The fireworks faded out, and James breathed in deeply, not wanting to move from this spot, maybe ever.

“Who’s that over there?”

James very nearly actively cursed when Clint pulled away to look where Sam was pointing. He grudgingly turned to look himself, but by the time he checked the bank it was clear of anyone who might have been standing there. When he turned back to Clint, though, the man was closed off, with only worry tinging his features.

“Clint?” James asked. “Is everything okay?”

“Huh?” Clint blinked and looked at James again, then over to Natasha and Sam. “Oh, yes. Yes, of course. I just...I’m sorry, everything is fine. There’s just something I need to take care of.” He picked up the oars and started to row them over to the main shore. Once there, he hopped out of the boat. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’m coming with you.” Sam jumped out after him. “Don’t even argue.”

Clint frowned and started to march away, not even turning to see Sam following after him. James sat in the boat, suddenly cold.

“It’ll be all right.” Natasha dropped in next to James, filling the space Clint had just vacated. “I’m sure everything is fine.”

* * *

As soon as Clint was out of sight of the boat with James and Natasha, a figure launched from the treeline and tackled him to the ground.

“There you are! We’ve been searching everywhere for you!”

“Woah, hey now! I don’t want to hurt you, but I will.”

Clint managed to catch his breath and look over to where Sam and Pietro were having a small stand-off. He lifted Wanda off so he could sit up, rubbing at his chest.

“Ow,” he said. “Maybe don’t do the flying tackle thing again? I’m getting too old for that.”

“Who are these people, Barton?” Pietro slowly circled to stand between his sister and Sam.

“They’re friends. Don’t worry, everything is fine.”

“Where were you?” Wanda punched his arm lightly, or at least lightly for her. Clint only winced a little. “We waited at the meeting place. You never came.”

“I got a little tied up in something. Someone. It’s complicated. But I’m getting it worked out. You guys should head on back without me. I need to take care of things here, and then I’ll meet you when I can.”

Sam was still eyeing Wanda and Pietro. “You two are the ones we lost in the forest, right? Who stole the shield with Clint?”

“And you are the one that tried to hunt us down,” Pietro replied, crossing his arms against his chest. “Are you here to arrest us?”

“By all rights I should. You’re thieves!”

“Okay, hold up, hold up here.” Clint finally struggled to his feet. “Sam, it’s not...it’s really not what you think. See, we’re a quartet--”

“Three people make for a pretty kooky quartet.”

“With Steve Rogers.”

“That’s--you--what?” Sam spluttered for a moment, looking between the three thieves. “What?” he said again.

Wanda nodded. “It’s true. My brother and I found the king in our country, and he asked us to help him. We met Hawkeye, who was running from the law and some people he’d turned in to the guards, and we all decided to work together to retrieve the shield and return it to Steve.”

Sam went from confusion to suspicion in the blink of an eye. “Why couldn’t he just come get it himself?”

“He’s still out searching.” Clint shrugged. “He wants to make sure the Red Skull really did die in the ice. And, well. He’s heard some strange rumors about his friend Bucky.”

“The one that died falling from the train?”

Pietro shook his head. “He might not have died. Some people say he got found, maybe captured. Steve is looking for him.”

“Shame he won’t ever find him.”

Clint whirled at the sound of a new voice entering the conversation. He, Sam, Wanda, and Pietro all went into fighting stances as Brock Rumlow emerged from the trees, followed by the rest of the Strike team. Clint drew his bow and nocked an arrow, aiming it directly at Rumlow’s face.

“Hello, Clint,” Rumlow said with a wicked smile. “Long time no see.”

“Brock.” Clint tried to sound casual, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded in shaking the nervous tremor from his voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Well, just like poor, lost, Steve Rogers, I’m here looking for Bucky Barnes. See, he’s been missing from his tower for too long. I’ve been asked to bring him back home.”

What did that mean, bring Bucky back to his tower...oh. Oh! Clint’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to shout for James, but a prick at his neck left him dropping to the ground again. His loosed arrow flew up into the trees, useless. No, no no! He couldn’t get hit with a sleep dart, he had to find James, had to tell him, had to bring him to Steve…

The sound of his three companions collapsing as well gave Clint just enough energy to twitch his finger. He could feel a tear trickling from the corner of his eye as he realized exactly how much he had failed to do and all that he was about to lose.

* * *

Mist began to creep up from the lake onto the beach. James got out of the boat and tugged it further up onto shore so it wouldn’t float away. He sat with Natasha on a log nearby, trying not to look after where Clint had gone.

“This is stupid.” Natasha stood up suddenly. “Come on, I’m going after them.”

James scrambled to his feet and jogged after her. They followed the line of the beach around the corner where Clint and Sam had disappeared. The fog grew thicker as they walked, making it hard to see more than a few feet in any direction.

Finally, the sight of a couple people standing began to emerge. James let loose a small sigh of relief. Until the knot in his chest had loosened, he hadn’t quite realized just how afraid he was that Pierce had been right and that Clint was just going to abandon him.

But then those couple people turned into a whole group of people, and James began to see the forms of bodies lying on the ground at their feet. He gasped, recognizing the telltale sign of Clint’s quiver on his back as he lay facedown on the beach. “No,” he said.

“Ah, here’s our prize of the day,” one of the men said, and James finally recognized Brock Rumlow.

“No,” James said again, louder. “No!” He launched himself into the group of men, ignoring the way that his eyes were burning and his breathing hitched, the pain as something inside of him broke. He swung at the men around him and knew that Natasha was doing the same beside him, taking down everyone within his reach.

“That’s enough! Unless you want to see your last friend die like the rest of them.” James stopped with his left hand still clenched around a man’s throat. He looked over at Rumlow, who held Natasha around the neck with one arm and carried a glinting knife in the other. “You ready to come quietly?” he asked with a sick smile.

That smile turned into a grimace of pain, and Rumlow loosed his grip on Natasha, who danced away. Rumlow dropped down to his knees and then onto his face, revealing a knife in his back and Pierce, breathing heavily.

“No one puts their hands on my boy,” Pierce growled before looking up to James.

James crushed the windpipe of the man he was holding without thinking. Then he stepped forward, his movements jerky as he tried not to step on any of the dead. The dead…

Natasha rushed forward to wrap her arms around James’ waist. He squeezed her back, probably so hard that it hurt, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

Pierce had been right. He’d tried to go out on his own, and now so many people were dead. He only had Natasha left, and only that because Pierce had been there to save her. James wrapped himself tighter around her and let out a shuddering sob, burying his face in her hair.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispered to her. “Please don’t leave me.”

“I won’t,” she promised.

Pierce came forward and placed a hand on James’ shoulder. “Let’s go home,” he said.

James nodded, choking on another gasp. This is what Pierce had meant. This was the weakness he was meant to cut out, this emotion that left him sobbing and beaten down without even taking a hit. This was the worst feeling in the world.

His arms still wrapped tight around Natasha, he walked away from the bodies around him, going back to where he could be safe, where the walls would keep him from feeling anything ever again.

* * *

“Pepper thinks I should hang you.”

Clint opened his eyes slowly, wincing at the stabbing pain of the light filtering through the window. He tried closing his eyes again, hoping to figure out where he was through his other senses.

“Bruce thinks I should keep you in prison for a very long time. He’s against violence, really. Pepper normally is as well, but she also thinks that you stole Steve’s shield and then murdered a bunch of people, so she is hoping to appease all the people who want someone to be punished.”

That loud talking was doing nothing to help Clint’s headache. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned, hoping whoever was talking would go away.

“I had to remind her that you probably hadn’t killed those people, since you were found unconscious on the ground, and more likely there was some sort of group attack. I’m still working on figuring out exactly how it played out. But the fact that you’re coming out of sleep first does seem to support my theory that you went down pretty quickly. That and, of course, the lack of consistent bruising showing that you were in a fight.”

A fight? Who was in a fight? Had he lost? Was he captured again? Was this some sort of torture? It felt sort of like torture.

“The point is, Mister Barton, you’ve put me in a bit of a tight situation. See, my captain of the guard found you unconscious, lying next to my captain of the winged guard, also unconscious, and two people I can only assume to be your thieving buddies. That in itself wouldn’t have been so bad. But the ten dead bodies around you, well. That makes for a pretty damning picture.”

Dead bodies? Who was dead? Clint forced his eyes open again and struggled to sit up. “James?” he said in a shaky voice. “He’s dead?”

Tony Stark, tilting back in a chair across from him, raised his eyebrows. “I was hoping you could tell me. Who’s James?”

“He’s got a metal arm.” Clint pointed to his left arm. “Was he there? Is he dead?”

“Doesn’t match any of the bodies we found.”

Clint breathed a sigh of relief and slumped against the wall the bed was supported against. “And Natasha? Short, with bright red hair?”

“Nope, doesn’t sound familiar.”

Clint pulled his hands up to cover his face. He let out a relieved half-sob. “They’re safe,” he said, dragging his hands back through his hair. “Thank god they’re safe.”

“You know, I had really hoped that I’d be getting more answers from you than questions. I’m missing out on a very important meeting in order to talk to you, you know. Not that I wouldn’t have found some other way to miss the meeting, but the point now is that I’m missing it with you when I could be doing something much more productive.”

“It was the Strike team,” Clint said, the memory of last night slowly coming back to him. “They came to take James home. Hit us with sleeping darts. If they’re all gone...then he got away.” He couldn’t stop himself from smiling.

“They’re not just gone, Barton.” Stark leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees and looking very serious. “They’re dead. Poisoned, stabbed, crushed windpipes. Murdered.”

Clint shook his head. “It was self-defense,” he said. “They were coming to...to… did you say stabbed?”

“One man had a knife still in his back. Others had been hit with poison darts, much like the ones you were hit with but deadly. Broken limbs all around.”

“James didn’t have a knife, or darts. And I’ve just got my arrows. None of us had any knives.” Clint frowned and covered his face with his hand again. “Stop, wait, I need to think, I need to know.” He looked up. “I need to talk to Sam.”

Stark frowned. “I’m not sure he’s up yet. And if he’s in the same state as you, I’m not sure he’s going to be very intelligible even if he is awake. And why him and not your other buddies?”

“He’s bigger, he might have held out longer. He might have seen something.” Clint stumbled to his feet and lurched to the bars of his cell. Oh, cell. He was in prison. Somehow that thought hadn’t clicked before. “Please, I need to know, I think they took him back. I think he’s in trouble.”

“Sam?”

“No, James! Let me out, I need to find him!”

A guard heard the shouting and came forward, rapping on Clint’s fingers where they clutched the bars of the cell. “Settle down,” he said.

“No, you don’t understand! I need to go, I need to help him! Sam!”

“Be quiet!”

CLANG!

The guard dropped to the ground, and Clint looked up to see Thor grinning at him, holding a frying pan over his shoulder. “Sorry I’m late,” he said. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Woah, woah, woah! Who’s staging a jailbreak in my prison?”

Clint had momentarily forgotten that he was in a cell with Tony Stark. He half-turned and waved a hand between the two men. “Thor, Tony Stark. Tony Stark, Thor. Now let’s get moving.”

“Step back.” Thor pulled back the frying pan, aiming for the hinges of the cell door.

“Wait, stop! Don’t break my prison! I use this for things! Here, I’ll just open the door.” Stark rushed forward with a ring of keys. “I wasn’t going to do anything to him anyway.”

“That is good, because this is one of the few men who knows the location of Steve Rogers.”

“You know what?!”

“Yeah, yeah, small world. Wanda and Pietro know where Steve is, too, so you can talk to them. But I’m the only one who knows here to find Bucky Barnes, and I’m never going to reach him if we spend all day standing around here talking, so someone find me Sam Wilson and get me a horse!” Clint stumbled toward the door.

“What’s with the frying pan?” Stark asked.

“Well I usually work with a hammer, but mine’s been missing for a bit now, so I had to make do. This thing has come in surprisingly handy, though. I’m very impressed.”

“Stark, keys!” Clint stopped at the main door to the prison. He leaned against the wall, waiting for Stark to hurry up and open the damn door before rushing outside again. He nearly collided with Sam, who was rushing down the stairs into the dungeon.

“They said Bucky Barnes,” Sam gasped.

“James,” Clint said.

“We have to--”

“I know where.”

“I’ll get my wings.”

“Let’s go!”

Clint chased Sam back up and outside again. Behind him, he heard Stark say, “Did you understand any of that?”

“Not a word, my friend,” Thor replied.

Sam led Clint into a room full of weapons. Clint reached out to grab a sword. “Don’t touch that,” Sam said. “Here.” He threw Clint his quiver and bow while swinging on a wingpack. He started to strap it on across his chest while Clint settled his weapons onto his back. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah. How’re you?” Clint asked. “Still woozy?”

“A little, but I’ll get past it.”

As they left the room, another soldier rushed in shouting. “Jailbreak! We’ve had a jailbreak! The guards are all down!”

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Sam said, rolling his eyes and shoving past the man. He grabbed Clint’s arm. “Come on, we’ll go to the roof. It’s easier to take off from there.”

“Wait, is that--?” Clint spun and waved to the questioning guard before following Sam again to another set of stairs. They climbed quickly; fortunately no one thought to ask who the man with the captain of the winged guard was.

“Grab onto me,” Sam said as they came up to the edge of the castle wall. “I need to focus on flying, so you need to focus on directing me and not falling off.”

“Those are good priorities, I like those priorities.” Clint wrapped his arms around Sam so they were chest-to-chest, with Clint’s face on Sam’s shoulder. “You know, now that we’re here, I’m realizing we never really got a chance to have a good heart-to-heart. Let out all those bad things between us, really clear the air. It really means a lot that you’re trusting me here, that you came down for me so we can go rescue--”

“Man, this is _not_ the time.” Sam reached between them to press a button on his chest. His wings flew open, and he launched them both from the roof of the building.

* * *

James laid unmoving on his bed. Natasha was next to him, curled up into his side.

They were dead. Everyone was dead, because of him. All because he hadn’t been enough.

“James.” Pierce’s voice at the doorway was soft. “I made us dinner. You need to keep up your strength.”

James pushed himself up. He walked to the door. Pulled aside the curtain. Went down the stairs. Pulled out the chair. Sat. Ate.

“What are you going to do about the girl?” Pierce asked, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. “You should probably send her away so that she’s no longer a threat to you.”

“I won’t leave her,” James responded.

“It’s not leaving her, it’s protecting her. For god’s sake, James, someone is still out there looking for you. You can’t imagine that they’re going to stop just because one small group has tried and failed.”

People were looking for him. Like they looked for King Steven, the man from James’ dreams. Except these people wanted to destroy him.

“Where would she go?”

“I know some people who could take her in. She’d be well looked after, and no one would hurt her. Just trust me, and I’ll take care of it.”

James nodded. Natasha would be safe. At least someone would be.

After dinner, James retreated back to his room. He wouldn’t tell Natasha yet that she should go. He wanted to be selfish for one more night and just have someone to be near. She was sleeping when he returned, and instead of waking her he tore a sheet of paper from the back of one of his books and took a piece of charcoal from the fireplace.

He started with the same pair of eyes he always drew. But this time, he added the rest of the face. A sweep of hair, broad shoulders, wide smile, until he had a picture of Steve Rogers. Then he tried again, looking up at Natasha as she slept and drawing her flowing hair and sharp features. He added Sam to the book, with his disapproving frown and his expressive eyebrows.

Clint was last. His crooked smile, the long scar on his stubbly jaw, the crooked nose. And most especially those eyes, warm and full of life, bright blue as he reached out…

James realized he was crying when the first tear dripped onto the page, smearing Natasha’s face. He dropped the book and curled in on himself, sobbing silently into his folded arms. He could remember the fight, remembered the men dropping around him, remembered killing the last of the men who’d tried to take him.

He remembered shooting someone from the top of a hill, eyeing down the long barrel of the gun and calculating the shot perfectly.

Before James had time to wonder where that memory had come from, he was hit by a barrage of images. He remembered shooting a woman through the window of her house, throwing a knife to hit a man in the back. He remembered fighting through a crowd of people to capture a man and bring him back to Pierce. And most of all he remembered pain, pain through everything, the pain of losing his arm and being dragged through snow, the pain of being attacked over and over. The pain of being shoved into a chair, with cold metal on his scalp and a glowing light that reached into his head and stripped away his memories, locking them away inside his own skull.

He screamed as they were all released at once. The newest memories first, and then, in a gentle wave behind them, memories of the time before he fell. Of standing next to Steve Rogers and fighting with him, of laughing with the rest of the Howling Commandos. Memories of who he was before he fell, grasping for a hand--

“James! James, what is it?” Natasha was clutching his shoulders and shaking him. “Come on, snap out of it! James!”

“Move aside, girl.” Pierce pushed Natasha away. “James? James! Look at me, Soldier.”

“Not...that’s not…”

“What are you saying? James, what do you need to tell me?”

“My name is Bucky.” Bucky grabbed Pierce’s hands that had wrapped around him and thrust them away. “And you…” He looked in horror at Pierce. “You tried to erase me.”

Pierce’s eyes flashed with terror for a moment before he forced a laugh. “James, you’re being ridiculous. What are you talking about?”

“My _name_ is _Bucky_.” He used the wall to pull himself up to standing again. “And you’re the one who has been trying to destroy me.”

Pierce stood from his crouch. He was still smiling, but his eyes were so cold. Bucky had seen it before when “Listen to yourself, James. You know that everything I did was to protect you.”

“Including strapping me into that chair? Wiping away my memories?” Bucky clenched his fists at his sides. He took a step toward Pierce and said in a low voice, “Or are we talking about how you’ve been using me as your personal assassin for years and then wiping my brain again and again so I can only remember spending time training with you?”

Natasha’s eyes grew wide at the statement. She stopped staring in shock at Bucky and turned a wrathful gaze on Pierce. “You did _what_?” she hissed.

“Oh, don’t sound so angry,” Pierce snapped at her. “You think I didn’t know that you’ve been hiding up in the rafters, spinning your little webs around this place like the spider you are? You’ve only stayed this long because I thought you might be useful someday. Don’t make me destroy you now.”

With a roar, Natasha hurled herself at Pierce. She launched herself up to wrap her legs around his neck in a choke-hold and try to throw him to the ground. As she threw herself back, though, her eyes rolled back in her head and she dropped away.

“What did you do to her?”

“Sleep dart,” Pierce explained, brushing off his shoulders. “My last one, unfortunately. All I have left are the deadly ones. Let’s hope we can be far away from here before I need to use them on her.”

“No.”

“Excuse you?”

“I’m not going anywhere with you. And I’m not going to let you hurt anyone else.”

“James, you don’t want to do this.”

“I’m not going to tell you again. My. Name. Is. _Bucky!_ ” Bucky swung forward with his left arm, aiming directly for Pierce’s head.

Pierce ducked the blow and pulled something out of his pocket, placing it on the underside of Bucky’s arm and pushing a button. Electricity shot up Bucky’s arm, and he collapsed to the floor in too much pain to even scream.

From somewhere outside the pain came a voice, calling to him. It was a voice he knew, a voice he shouldn’t be hearing, and he fought to remember where he knew it from.

Pierce grumbled and walked away. Bucky could hear the sound of the chain rattling as the platform descended, then as it was slowly pulled back up again by Pierce. Bucky reached up with his right arm, which was still twitching from the electricity running through it, and tried to grab whatever Pierce had stuck onto him. His fingers slipped on the tiny box. He tried again, pulling with his nails until it came off and he could smash it into the ground with his fist.

When he looked up again, still panting as his body struggled to regain its energy, he saw a blonde head coming in line with the window.

“No,” he whispered. “No, it’s not--”

“James?” Clint asked. He didn’t wait for the platform to draw even with the ledge, leaping into the room as soon as he could reach the frame. “James, I thought I’d never see you again! What, what ha--agh!”

Pierce watched impassively as Clint dropped to the ground, his hand pressed over the knife wound in his side.

“No!” Bucky screamed and began to crawl over to Clint. His metal arm felt like dead weight at his side. The electricity must have done something to it so it wasn’t working properly anymore. “No, it’s...you can’t be…you were dead! I saw you dead, how can you be here?”

“Interfering twerp,” Pierce muttered. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the knife clean. “Don’t give me that look, James. It had to be done.”

“Clint? Clint!” Bucky continued crawling over to him. “No, no, I won’t let this happen. I’m not going to let anyone else die.”

Pierce placed a hand on Bucky’s neck, forcing him down and pinning him to the floor. “It’s over, James. Look at this. Your friends are still being hurt by your actions. Now stop fighting and come with me, before things get any worse.”

“Please.” Bucky pressed his forehead to the ground and shuddered. He could feel new tears falling, though he had been certain he’d used them all up. “Please, just...just let me save him. I can...I can put a bandage on it, sew it closed. Please let me save someone, for once in my life. Then I’ll go with you.”

Clint moaned. “No…”

“I’ll never run. I’ll never try to escape. Please. Just let me help him.” Bucky breathed a sigh of relief as the hand lifted from his neck.

“You can try. But try not to get your hopes up.”

Bucky slid forward until he was right next to Clint.

“James,” Clint said, placing a hand on Bucky’s cheek..

“It’s Bucky now, actually.” Bucky smiled through his tears and placed his hand over Clint’s. “Hold still now. I need to stop this bleeding.”

“You remembered.” Clint’s smile was brilliant despite how pale he was. “I’m so glad. Now you can go find Steve and help him take care of the kingdom.”

“No, I think you’re going to have to do that, you stubborn lug.” Bucky’s mouth twitched in a small forced smile. “Come on, put some pressure here while I get the sewing kit.”

“Bucky.” Clint tapped his leg and gestured for him to lean in close. “Check the window.”

“No, I need to--”

“Bucky. Look.”

Bucky turned, and hovering just outside the window was Sam Wilson, still disapproving and waggling those stupid eyebrows of his. Bucky choked on a laugh.

“Sorry it took me so long,” Sam said. “It took me some time to round up the cavalry.”

“What?” Pierce stared at Sam. He started reaching into his belt for the darts. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s over, man. Everyone’s here. We’ve got Tony Stark downstairs, surrounded by all his finest guards, and a group of ruffians that you do _not_ want to get on the bad side of. I’m serious, this guy is lethal with a big blunt object in his hands. There’s no way out of this one, so you’d better come quietly.”

Pierce snarled. His features contorted into an ugly grimace. He looked from Sam to Bucky, and his lip curled up in a small smile. “Желание,” he said.

Bucky froze at the word, which scraped at the inside of his head. “No,” he whispered.

“Ржaвый. Семнадцать. Рассвет.”

“No, no, no no!” Bucky tried to cover his ears, but he still couldn’t lift his metal arm. Then he tried to get to Pierce and stop him from speaking those words that threatened to drag Bucky from himself. But he couldn’t get his legs to work, and Pierce kept moving away, backing toward a trapdoor in the floor.

“Печь. Девять.”

“Stop him! Someone please!” Bucky reached for something to throw, anything that might help him to stop what was coming. He registered Sam diving in through the window and Pierce reaching for one of the poison darts in his belt.

Bucky, kneeling next to the table, turned his head and saw a spot of red and white from the corner of his vision. He reached up with his right hand and twisted to pull the shield away from where it was stuck to the underside of the table.

“Sam!” he shouted, throwing the shield so that it blocked the dart that Pierce aimed at the flying guard. The dart crashed to the floor, and Sam scooped up the shield, carrying it in front of him as he continued to stalk forward.

“Добросердечный.” Pierce growled and backed away again, this time circling away from Sam and toward the open window. All he had to do was buy enough time-- “Возвращение на родину.”

“Agh! Stop it, stop it!” Bucky screamed.

“Один.” Pierce grinned at Bucky. “Грузовой ва--”

Natasha’s hand clapped over Pierce’s mouth. “Never again,” she hissed, and pushed him the last few inches out the tower window.

Bucky stared for a moment at the space where Pierce had just been. It looked so...small. Too small to have held something as big and terrible as Pierce had just seemed, yet there it was.

A quiet moan distracted Bucky from his musings. He shuffled back over to Clint, only to find that he’d only been losing more blood and growing more pale.

“Clint,” he said. He pushed his fingers through Clint’s hair. “Clint, come on. Hold on.”

“Hey Bucky.” When Clint smiles, there’s blood on his teeth. “You know how you left this tower chasing a dream?”

“Ssh, Clint, it’s all right. Don’t talk, we’ll get someone here who can help you.”

“I think I came back here chasing a dream.”

Bucky’s chest heaved as he fought to hold off another round of tears. He cradled Clint’s face in his hand and watched his eyes glaze over.

“Clint? Clint?! No, no, don’t leave me, please!” Bucky bent down and buried his face in Clint’s shoulder. “You said you were a thief. I know you stole my heart. I need you to steal something again. Steal yourself, steal away from death. Please.”

Someone was prodding at him, trying to get him to move, but Bucky didn’t want to. Everything hurt, inside and out, and he was done trying to keep fighting.

“Shove over, big guy, and let the doctor in,” someone said.

“It doesn’t matter, he’s dead!” Bucky shouted. He raised his head and scowled at the man next to him.

“Let the doc figure that out. You and me, let’s go take a look at that arm. I’m pretty good with tech, and I think I can get you fully functional again.”

“But Clint--”

“Will be fine or he won’t be. But his best bet is to go with the doctor to a place where we can take care of him. And you should come with me over here, that’s it.” The man led Bucky a few feet away. “I’m Tony Stark, by the way. Nice to meet you.”

“Bucky. Bucky Barnes.”

Tony’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Well all right then. Nice to meet you, Bucky.”

* * *

Clint opened his eyes and immediately groaned again at the bright light.

“You know, you and I have got to stop meeting like this.”

“Stark?” Clint asked, turning his head toward the sound. He forced his eyes open again. He’d have to adjust sooner or later.

“You sound surprised to see me. Don’t worry, your boyfriend is around here, too. I chased him off to bed so he could sleep instead of spend all of his time staring at you.”

Clint’s cheeks warmed at the idea of James--of _Bucky_ \--sitting by his bedside. “I gotta admit,” he croaked, “I wasn’t really sure I was going to be waking up.”

“Neither were we for a bit there. You did manage to lose a lot of blood. Luckily, I have the best medical staff money can buy, and they are quite a group of miracle workers.”

“So what happens now? Am I still on the chopping block?”

“No, no, I managed to convince Pepper that you could potentially be useful. For one thing, the twins have been completely unmanageable, demanding that I go after you and make sure you didn’t do anything stupid before they’d lead me to Steve. Then that meathead Thor kept talking about what a great hero you were, rescuing people from bandits here before going off on the quest to search for the missing king. He was very insistent about you. It was enough to make me think that you couldn’t be all bad and maybe I should give you a chance.”

“How very generous.” Clint grunted as he shifted in the bed and managed to jostle the hole in his side that still hadn’t closed up. “So I heal up, I take you to go get Steve, and then you hang me?”

“You’re really hung up on this hanging idea, aren’t you?” Stark’s smirk convinced Clint that the pun was intentional. “I have no intention of executing you now or at any point in the future. In fact, I was thinking that this country might be ready to put together a new team of heroes. If you’re interested, of course.”

Clint stared in shock. “Like the Howling Commandos?”

“A lot like that, yes, though I’m thinking we might try to come up with a new name. I haven’t quite decided on something yet, though there are some ideas floating around. One of my tech assistants suggested the ‘Avengers,’ and the others all seem pretty taken with the idea.”

“The others?”

“Well it is a team we’re suggesting here. It’s not a good team with just two people.”

A pounding of steps coming down the hall made Clint turn to the doorway just as Bucky skidded into view.

“They said you’re awake,” he gasped, stepping in and collapsing on the bed next to Clint. “I came as soon as I heard.”

Stark stood. “I’ll let you two catch up again. Let me know what you think about the team, though. Both of you. I look forward to your answers.”

Clint spent a few minutes just holding Bucky before he said, “So. He wants you to join the team, too, huh?”

“He’s brought it up a couple times. Something about the old guard, a continuing face for the public. Natasha thinks he’s just afraid of me.”

“He’d be right to be. You can be a little terrifying. Which of course I mean in a really good way. Did I ever mention I’ve got a thing for terrifying brunettes?”

Clint could feel Bucky’s smile against his chest, and he grinned in response. Bucky wasn’t dead. He wasn’t lost forever, trapped with no memories and no feelings, forced to live for someone else. They were both here, both alive. Clint couldn’t imagine a better ending.

“I think I want to join,” Bucky said. “I want to help people again.”

“Well hold on now. Let’s leave Stark dangling for a little while. I sort of like the idea of him just asking and asking and asking…”

“Clint. Shut up and kiss me.”

“Oh all right then, if you insist.” Clint let Bucky close the distance, since his side was still hurting too much for him to move much. And this kiss didn’t have literal fireworks exploding in the background, but it still felt like the great finale to their adventure.

He leaned back into the pillows and smiled. Then he thought back to what Bucky had said as he was bleeding out, and he started to chuckle.

“What?” Bucky asked.

“I was just thinking...you were starting to sound like you wanted me to keep being a thief. Something about stealing hearts?”

“Oh god.” Bucky blushed and dropped his head to the bed. “I was sort of hoping you hadn’t heard that.”

“No, it’s good, it was good. I like the idea. Stealing hearts, stealing from death. Stealing from psychopathic killers attempting to kidnap people and hold them hostage in his tower in the woods. Sounds like a fun idea. Maybe you could join me. We could go off and make our own little group. Robbin’ Clint and his Not-so-merry-man.”

Bucky looked up at Clint and rolled his eyes. “God, you’re terrible.”

“Yeah, I definitely am. The worst of criminals, and not likely to change any day. Well, that’s all right. I don’t think I was ever meant to be straight.” He winked to make sure Bucky got it.

“Please stop.”

“Aw, don’t tell me my jokes are missing the mark. I pride myself on accuracy.”

“No, that’s it, that was too far, I’m done with you.”

“Aww, no, come back.” Clint pulled at Bucky’s arm, dragging him back in for another kiss. And when Bucky’s lips pressed against his, Clint realized he’d been wrong. This wasn’t the perfect ending to their story. It was a perfect beginning.


End file.
